-  THE  — 
MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 


RIDGWELL   CULLUM 


THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 


BY   THE   SAME  AUTHOR 


The  Golden  "Woman 

The  Law- Breakers 

The  Way  of  the  Strong 

The  Twins  of  Suffering  Creek 

The  Night-Riders 

The  One- Way  Trail 

The  Trail  of  the  Axe 

The  Sheriff  of  Dyke  Hole 

The  Watchers  of  the  Plains 


HE  MOVED  A  STEP  NEARER  THE  STEEL  RAIL. 


THE 

MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 


By 
RIDGWELL  CULLUM 

Author  of  "The  Night  Riders,"  "The  Way  of 
the  Strong,"  "The  Law  Breakers"  etc. 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

I.  THE  DANGER   .        -.        .        .        .        . 

II.  A  STRANGE  MEETING       .        .        .        « 

III.  THE  MYSTERY 

IV.  MR.  CHARLES  SMITH         ,         .         .        . 
V.  THE  LURE        .  .        .        .         . 

VI.  THE  OLD  MILL  COVE       .        ...-.'     . 

VII.  ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA        .        .        . 

VIII.  BORGA     .        :'..'.        .        . 

IX.  THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP        ,        *        .        . 

X.  THE  FUTURE    .         .     -   .        .        , 

XL  BACK  AT  DORBY  TOWERS 

XII.  KUHLHAFEN       ... 

XIII.  NEWS       .    ' 

XIV.  "  KAMERADS  "  . 

* 

XV.  THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN       .        . 

XVI.  ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  .         .         . 

XVII.  THE  CROUCH  OF  THE  TIGER 

XVIII.  FROM  BENEATH  THE  WATERS    . 

XIX.  THE  TIGER  SPRINGS          . 

XX.  BAR-LEIGHTON 

XXI.  ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  . 

XXII.  A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE        . 

XXIII.  THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY     .... 

XXIV.  RUXTON  ARRIVES  AT  A  GREAT  DECISION  . 


CONTENTS 


XXV.  THE  SWEETNESS  OF  LIFE 

XXVI.  RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK 

XXVII.  THE  WEEK-END  BEGINS 

XXVIII.  THE  WEEK-END    .      \ . .,  '      . 

XXIX.  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WEEK-END 

XXX.  GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD 

XXXI.  AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS 


329 

340 
354 
365 
379 
387 
404 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


He  moved  a  step  nearer  the  rail         Frontispiece 


FACING 

PAGE 


Out  of  the  grey  waters  rose  the  submersible         ...          88 
"  Go  on,"  he  said  sharply         160 


THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  DANGER 

"  AMONGST  the  many  uncertainties  which  this  deplor- 
able, patched-up  peace  has  brought  us,  there  is,  at  least, 
one  significant  certainty,  my  boy.  It's  the  inventor. 
He's  buzzing-  about  our  heads  like  a  fly  in  summer-time, 
and  he's  just  about  as — sticky." 

Sir  Andrew  Farlow  sighed.  His  sigh  was  an  expres- 
sion of  relief ;  relief  at  the  thought  that  he  and  his  son, 
dining  together  at  Dorby  Towers  for  the  first  time  since 
the  dissolution  of  Parliament  had  released  the  latter  from 
his  political  duties,  had  at  last  reached  the  end  of  a  long 
discussion  of  the  position  brought  about  by  the  hope- 
lessly patched-up  peace,  which,  for  the  moment,  had 
suspended  the  three  years  of  terrible  hostilities  which 
had  hurled  the  whole  of  Europe  headlong  over  the  preci- 
pice of  ruin. 

The  great  ship-owner  toyed  with  the  delicate  stem  of 
his  liquor  glass.  There  was  a  smile  in  his  keen  blue 
eyes.  But  it  was  a  smile  without  lightness  of  heart  to 
support  it. 

"  Yes,  I  know.  They've  been  busy  enough  through- 
out the  war — and  to  some  purpose.  Now  we  have  a 
breathing  space  they'll  spread  like  a — plague." 


10 

Ruxton  Farlow  sipped  his  coffee.  The  weight  of  the 
recent  discussion  was  still  oppressing  him.  His  mind 
was  full  of  the  appalling  threat  which  the  whole  world 
knew  to  be  overshadowing  the  future. 

The  dinner  was  drawing  to  its  close.  The  butler,  grown 
old  in  Sir  Andrew's  service,  had  finally  withdrawn.  The 
great  Jacobean  dining-hall  of  Dorby  Towers,  with  its  aged 
oak  beams  and  beautifully  carved  panelling,  was  lost  in 
the  dim  shadows  cast  by  the  carefully  shaded  table  lights. 
Father  and  son  were  occupying  only  the  extreme  end  of 
the  dining-table,  which  had,  at  some  far-distant  age, 
served  to  bear  the  burden  of  the  daily  meals  of  half  a 
hundred  monks.  There  were  no  other  lights  in  the  room, 
and  even  the  figures  of  the  two  diners  were  only  illumi- 
nated by  the  reflected  glow  from  the  spotless  damask  on 
the  table,  a  fashion  to  which  'the  conservative  habits  of 
the  household  still  ardently  clung.  It  was  a  fitting  setting 
for  such  a  meeting  as  the  present. 

Sir  Andrew  Farlow,  Baronet,  was  one  of  the  greatest 
magnates  of  shipping  and  ship-building  in  the  country, 
and  was  also  one  of  the  greatest  sufferers  by  the  German 
submarine  warfare  during  the  late  war.  His  extreme 
wealth,  and  the  fact  of  the  enormous  Government  con- 
tracts in  his  ship-building  yards,  had  left  him  practically 
immune  from  the  consequences  of  his  losses,  but  the 
losses  to  his  fleet  had  been  felt  by  the  man,  who  was,  be- 
fore all  things  in  the  world,  a  shipmaster. 

His  son,  and  only  partner,  had  spent  those  past  three 
years  in  the  service  of  his  country.  Not  in  the  actual 
fighting  line  but  in  the  work  of  organization,  an  impor- 
tant position  which  his  wealth  and  capacity  had  entitled 
him  to. 


THE  DANGER  u 

Sir  Andrew  pierced  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"  We  mustn't  ridicule  them,  though,"  he  said,  in  his 
hearty  Yorkshire  way.  "  We've  laughed  at  'em  too 
often  in  the  past.  It's  a  laugh  which  cost  our  country 
a  couple  of  thousand  millions,  and  a  world-wide  suffer- 
ing which  mankind  will  never  forget."  Then  his  manner 
lightened.  "  Henceforth  the  inventor  must  be  to  us  a 
rare  and  precious  orchid.  We  must  spend  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  pounds  on  him,  the  same  as  I  spend  thou- 
sands on  my  orchid  houses.  I  count  myself  well  repaid 
if  I  succeed  in  raising  one  single  perfect  bloom  on  some 
rare  plant.  That  is,  if  my  rivals  have  failed  with  the 
same  plant.  The  inventor  is  the  orchid  of  modern  civili- 
zation, and  the  perfect  blooms  he  produces  are  very,  very 
precious  and — rare." 

"  You  are  thinking  of  those  diabolical  engines  of  de- 
struction which  were  prepared  for  this  war." 

Ruxton  helped  himself  to  a  cigar. 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  thinking  of  the  defence,  not 
the  offence,  of  this  old  country  of  ours." 

The  younger  man  nodded  as  he  lit  his  cigar. 

"  That  is  it.  We  must  prepare — prepare.  We  have 
only  a  breathing  space  for  it." 

"  There  must  be  no  more  slumbering." 

"  And  no  more  sacrificing  the  country  to  self-seeking 
demagogues." 

"  Yes,  and  no  more  slavery  to  Party  prejudices,  as  an- 
tique as  the  timbers  of  this  house." 

"  Nor  the  knaveries  of  men  who  seek  power  through 
dividing  the  country  into  classes,  and  setting  each  at  the 
other's  throat." 

"  Nor  must  we  ever  again  allow  the  nation's  security, 


12  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

economic  or  military,  to  be  hurled  into  the  cockpit  of 
Party  politics." 

"  Gad  !  It  makes  me  shiver  when  I  think  how  near — 
how  near " 

"We  were  to  destruction,"  added  Sir  Andrew  gravely. 

It  was  again  a  moment  of  intense  thought.  Each  man 
was  regarding  from  his  own  view-point  that  intangible 
threat  inspired  by  the  unsatisfactory  termination  of  the 
war,  which  left  the  Teutonic  races  in  a  position  to  brew 
further  mischief  with  which  to  flood  the  world. 

The  pucker  of  thought,  the  drawn  brows,  completed  the 
likeness  of  Sir  Andrew  Farlow  to  England's  national  sym- 
bolic figure.  His  broad  shoulders  and  shortish  figure ; 
his  round,  strong,  Yorkshire  face,  with  its  crowning  of 
snow-white,  curly  hair,  and  the  old-fashioned,  crisp  side 
whiskers  made  him  a  typical  John  Bull,  even  in  his  mod- 
ern evening  dress. 

In  the  case  of  his  son  Ruxton  it  was  almost  in  every 
respect  an  antithesis. 

No  foreigner  would  have  taken  Ruxton  Farlow  for  any- 
thing but  an  Englishman,  just  as  no  Englishman  but 
would  have  charged  him  with  possessing  foreign  blood  in 
his  veins.  And  the  Englishman  would  have  been  right. 

Sir  Andrew  Farlow  had  spent  a  brief  married  life  of  a 
few  months  over  one  year  with  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
women  amongst  the  Russian  nobility,  and  the  birth  of  his 
son  left  him  a  widower. 

From  his  mother  young  Ruxton  had  inherited  all  those 
characteristics  which  foreign  Europe  assigns  to  the 
British  born  ;  his  great  size,  his  fair,  waving  hair  and  his 
darkly  serious  eyes.  These  things  all  came  from  his  Rus- 
sian mother,  who  had  possessed  them  herself  in  a  marked 


THE  DANGER  13 

degree.  Furthermore  he  inherited  other  qualities  which 
could  never  be  claimed  for  his  Yorkshire  father.  The 
boy  from  his  earliest  childhood  was  an  idealist :  an  idealist 
of  but  a  single  purpose  which  developed  into  a  brilliant 
specimen  of  the  modern  product  of  an  old-fashioned 
patriotism. 

But  he  brought  more  to  bear  upon  his  patriotism  than 
the  mere  passionate  devotion  to  his  country.  He  was  a 
fine  product  of  public  school  and  university  with  the  back- 
ing of  a  keen,  well-balanced  brain,  and  a  natural  aptitude 
for  statecraft  in  relation  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  He  saw 
with  eyes  wide  open  to  those  interests  dearest  to  his 
heart,  and  clearly,  without  one  single  smudge  of  the  fog 
of  personal  self-interest. 

"  It's  never  out  of  my  thoughts,  Dad,"  Ruxton  said  at 
last.  "  It  is  with  me  at  all  times.  It  is  the  purpose  of  my 
life  to  devote  myself  to,  and  associate  myself  with,  only 
those  who  will  place  their  country  before  all  else  in  life." 

"  An  ideal  difficult  to  realize  in  Great  Britain,"  observed 
his  father  drily. 

"  Do  you  think  that  ?     Do  you  really  think  that  ?  " 

Sir  Andrew  stirred  impatiently. 

"  It  is  not  what  I  think.  It  is  not  what  any  of  us  think. 
It  is  what  we  see  and  hear — and  know.  This  war  has 
shown  up  so  many  weaknesses  in  the  armor  of  our  social 
economy  as  well  as  the  psychology  of  our  people  that  one 
hardly  knows  where  to  hurl  one's  condemnation  the  most 
forcefully.  So  many  weaknesses  and  failures  stand  out 
crying  aloud  for  the  bitter  castigations  of  national  con- 
science that  it  is  difficult  to  point  out  one  worthy  feature. 
Oh,  you  think  that  too  sweeping,"  cried  the  baronet  with 
flushed  rugged  cheeks  and  brow,  as  his  son  raised  ques- 


14  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

tioning  eyes  in  his  direction.  "  That  is  what  every  other 
man  and  woman  in  the  country  would  say  in  their  pur- 
blind vanity.  But  it  is  true.  True  of  the  country.  True 
of  us  all.  There  is  one  thing  which  appeals  to  me  as  our 
greatest  failure,  however.  One  failure  preeminent  over  all 
others  that  has  sunk  deep  down  in  my  heart,  and  the  scar 
of  which  can  never  be  obliterated.  I  was  brought  up  in 
the  early  Victorian  days  when  patriotism  was  no  mere 
head-line  in  a  sensation-loving  press.  It  was  something 
real.  Something  big.  Something  which  gripped  the 
sense  of  duty  and  made  our  men  and  women  yearn  for 
active  participation  when  danger  threatened  our  Empire, 
even  to  the  sacrifice  of  all  they  held  dear  in  life.  That 
national  spirit  was  sick  to  death  when  this  war  broke  out. 
Our  press  was  divided,  our  politicians  were  divided,  and, 
yes,  our  people  were  largely  indifferent.  But  for  the 
strength  of  a  few  of  our  leaders,  men  who  have  deserved 
far  better  of  our  country  than  our  country  has  ever  yielded 
them,  thanks  to  indifference  and  Party  politics,  the  end  of 
this  war  would  have  come  with  even  more  terrible  conse- 
quences to  our  Empire  than  all  that  is  signified  by  the 
position,  almost  approaching  in  status  quo  ante,  in  which 
we  now  find  ourselves.  The  ramifications  of  our  lack  of 
national  spirit  are  so  multifarious  that  it  is  impossible  to 
go  into  them  as  a  whole.  One  or  two,  however,  are  so 
prodigious,  and  have  been  so  pronouncedly  marked,  that 
the  veriest  optimist  has  not  failed  to  observe.  One  which 
stood  out  remarkably  was  the  attitude  of  the  reigning 
Government  when  war  was  declared.  Every  newspaper 
cried  aloud  that  our  ranks  had  closed  up  to  meet  the  peril. 
They  did  close  up,  as  far  as  the  will  of  the  country  was 
concerned,  but  our  machinery  was  geared  to  certain 


THE  DANGER  15 

movement,  a  machine  built  through  years  of  partizanship 
in  politics.  The  result  was  pitiful.  When  the  party  in 
power  was  faced  with  Labor  troubles  which  threatened 
our  downfall  in  the  war,  they  dared  not  face  their  task  of 
drastic  remedy  because  they  saw  in  the  dim  future  the 
loss  of  votes  which  would  return  their  opponents  to  power 
at  the  next  election.  Hence  the  political  crisis,  at  a  time 
when  we  could  ill  afford  such  crises,  and  the  formation  of 
a  coalition.  Ten  months  were  thus  lost  in  drifting  while 
Labor  played,  and  our  soldiers,  inadequately  armed,  went 
to  their  deaths.  The  press,  a  divided  press,  mark  you, 
sought  a  scapegoat  in  the  individual,  when  they,  no  less 
than  our  national  machinery,  were  to  blame  for  the  disaster. 
Is  such  a  condition  conceivable  in  a  fervent  Latin  race,  or 
an  iron-shod  Teuton  ?  No,  no.  Is  it  right  to  blame 
Labor,  who,  for  the  past  decade  and  more,  has  been  cod- 
dled and  pampered  into  the  belief  that  like  any  baby  in  its 
cradle  it  has  only  to  cry  loud  enough  to  obtain  the 
alleviating  fluid?  It  at  least  has  cunning  enough  to 
realize  that  its  weight  of  vote  in  the  country  is  sufficient 
to  control  the  destiny  of  the  demagogues  who  seek  place 
and  power  through  its  ignorance.  Man,  but  it  makes  me 
sweat  to  think  of  it.  National  spirit  ?  Faugh  !  Look  at 
the  manufacturers.  Patriotism  ?  They  were  full  of  news- 
paper patriotism  until  those  who  were  executing  Govern- 
ment contracts  discovered  that  their  profits  were  to  be 
limited.  The  Army  ?  Our  voluntary  system  ?  The 
Army  was  all  right.  Oh,  yes,  the  Army  was  great.  But 
the  system  ?  The  system  was  probably  the  most  painful 
among  all  our  national  systems.  The  most  hopelessly 
inadequate.  And,  from  a  national  spirit  view,  was 
hideously  grotesque.  But  the  men  who  joined  and  shed 


16  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

their  blood  upon  those  terrible  battle-fields  abroad  were  as 
the  worker  in  the  vineyard  who  engaged  for  one  penny. 
They  gave  their  all,  and  made  up  in  the  execution  of  their 
duty  for  those  who  sheltered  behind  the  skirts  of  their 
womenkind,  and  the  race  of  shopkeepers  they  left  behind. 
The  spirit  of  our  country  when  the  war  broke  out  was  a 
sordid  commercial  spirit.  '  Business  as  usual '  was  the 
cry.  Then  our  press,  our  wonderful  divided  press,  said 
the  country  was  not  awake.  It  was  slumbering !  I  tell 
you  it  was  a  lie  !  "  The  old  man  banged  his  fist  upon  the 
table  and  set  the  glasses  jumping.  "  Our  country  was 
not  asleep.  Every  man,  woman,  and  child  capable  of 
common  understanding  realized  our  peril  from  the  start 
It  was  the  hateful  commercial  mind  seeking  to  make  gain 
out  of  the  disaster  which  had  overtaken  the  world,  that 
mind  that  has  acquired  for  us  the  detestable  sobriquet  of 
1  a  race  of  shopkeepers,'  that  hindered  and  deterred  us. 
We  were  not  slumbering.  We  were  awake.  Wide 
awake  I  To  think  that  I  have  lived  to  see  the  day  when 
our  women's  fair  hands  should  be  called  upon  to  distrib- 
ute the  white  feather.  Our  present-day  musicians  and 
our  national  bards  will  tell  you  that  the  old  songs  of  Eng- 
land are  out  of  date.  They  are  right.  Our  girls  and 
boys  look  askance  at  your  Marryats,  your  Dickenses, 
your  Thackerays,  your  Stevensons,  and  all  those  great 
masters  who  found  their  strength  in  our  country's  great- 
est ages.  When  war  broke  out  we  were  floundering  in 
the  mire  of  sensualism  brought  about  by  the  years  of 
peace  and  security,  and  so  we  bred  the  cult  of  the 
sensualist  writers  on  sex  problems,  and  all  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  other  arts  to  match." 

The   white-haired  veteran,  who   had  spent   his  early 


THE  DANGER  17 

youth  fighting  his  country's  battles  on  the  Empire's 
frontiers,  and,  in  later  days,  had  devoted  all  his  energies 
to  the  furthering  of  Britain's  supremacy  on  the  seas, 
passed  one  strong  hand  over  his  lined  brow.  He  swal- 
lowed like  a  man  choking  back  an  emotion  threatening  to 
overwhelm  him.  Then  the  flush  died  out  of  his  rugged 
cheeks,  and  he  smiled  at  the  son  he  loved,  and  who  was 
his  one  remaining  relative.  "  Forgive  me,  my  boy,  but 
— but  all  I've  said  is  true.  I  don't  think  many  will  deny 
it.  Anyway  those  who  do  are  lying  to  their  own  con- 
sciences, or — or  are  purblind  in  their  insane  egoism." 

Ruxton  smiled  responsively  and  thrust  back  his  chair. 

"There's  no  forgiveness  needed,  Dad,"  he  said.  "  You 
have  quoted  but  a  few  of  the  hundred  signs,  of  which  we 
all  have  proof,  that  when  war  broke  out  patriotism  had 
only  the  smallest  possible  part  in  the  life  of  this  country. 
From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  this  war  England  has 
had  to  pay  out  of  her  coffers,  to  those  of  her  people  whose 
services  she  needed,  a  price  so  extortionate  that  one 
wonders  if  it  is  not  all  some  hideous  nightmare  and  in 
truth  unreal.  But  tell  me,  Dad,"  he  went  on  after  a 
pause,  "  you  spoke  just  now  of  inventors,  and  your  manner 
suggested  that  there  was  something — important." 

Sir  Andrew  rose  from  the  table  and  led  the  way  towards 
the  distant  folding  doors. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  if  it  will  prove  to  be  anything — 
worth  while." 

He  fumbled  at  an  inner  pocket  of  his  dinner  coat,  and 
produced  a  letter  written  on  thin  paper.  When  they 
reached  the  great  hall  and  stood  under  the  brilliant 
electrolier  he  unfolded  it  and  held  it  out  for  his  son's 
perusal. 


18  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  I  get  lots  of  them,"  he  said  almost  apologetically, 
"  and  few  enough  turn  out  worth  while.  This  one  reads 
a  little  different.  That's  all." 

"  SIR, 

"  You  are  a  great  shipmaster.  You  owned  a  fleet 
of  merchant  shipping  when  war  broke  out  of  forty-two 
coastwise  and  thirty-five  ocean-going  ships.  At  the  end 
of  the  war  you  owned  thirteen  coastwise  and  twenty-one 
ocean-going  traders.  I  have  a  means  of  saving  you  any 
such  loss  by  submarine  in  the  future.  May  I  be  per- 
mitted to  show  you  my  invention  ? 

"Truly  yours, 

"  CHARLES  SMITH. 

"  P.  S. — Absolute  secrecy  is  necessary.  A  simple  '  yes ' 
addressed  by  wire  to  Veevee,  London,  will  be  sufficient." 

"The  wording  of  it  is  so  unusual  that  it — interested 
me,"  Sir  Andrew  went  on,  as  Ruxton  began  to  read  the 
letter  a  second  time. 

Presently  the  younger  man  looked  up  from  his 
reading. 

"  That's  your  imagination  working,  Dad,"  he  said, 
smiling.  Then  he  added  :  "  Let  it  work.  Let  it  run  riot. 
That's  what  we  want  in  England — now.  I  should  see  this 
man.  I  think  he  is  a  foreigner — in  spite  of  his  English 
name." 

The  John  Bull  face  of  the  elder  man  wreathed  into  a 
warm  smile  as  he  looked  up  at  his  towering  son. 

"  I  had  decided  to,"  he  said  quietly. 

Ruxton  handed  him  back  the  letter.  Then  he  moved 
across  to  the  great  mullioned  window  and  looked  out 
upon  the  perfect  summer  night.  The  moon  was  shining 
at  its  full  and  not  a  cloud  was  visible  anywhere. 


THE  DANGER  19 

"  I  have  some  letters  to  write,  my  boy,"  Sir  Andrew 
went  on.  "  If  you  want  me  I  shall  be  in  the  library. 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  shall  take  a  stroll  along  the  cliffs.  It'll  do 
me  good,  Dad.  I  want  to  feel  our  beloved  Yorkshire 
cliffs  under  my  feet  again,  and  make  sure  they're — still 
there." 

Ruxton  laughed. 

"  The  General  Election  is  on  August  2ist,  isn't  it?"  his 
father  enquired  presently.  "  You've  got  seven  weeks  in 
which  to  recuperate,  and  get  the  cobwebs  blown  off  you." 

"  I  always  get  rid  of  bad  fancies  up  here  in  my  native 
air,"  Ruxton  said  lightly.  "  I'm  glad  we  haven't  a 
strenuous  campaign." 

"  No.     We  shall  win  all  right." 

"Win?"  Ruxton  laughed.  "The  National  Party  will 
sweep  the  polls.  Labor  will  be  opposed  to  us  as  Labor 
will  oppose  any  party.  They  will  always  be  with  us. 
But  even  if  the  extreme  Radicals  were  to  link  forces  with 
them,  they  couldn't  obtain  a  twenty-five  per  cent,  repre- 
sentation. No,  Dad,  whatever  the  country  failed  to  realize 
during  the  first  two  years  of  war,  it's  been  all  brought 
home  to  it  now.  The  English  housewife  has  been  driven 
to  a  sweeping  and  garnishing  of  her  home.  We've  driven 
her  to  that,  and  the  National  Party  is— going  to  see  she 
does  it  thoroughly" 

The  younger  man's  enthusiasm  drew  an  approving 
smile  from  his  father.  Also  a  world  of  pride  in  this  great, 
fair-haired  idealist  shone  in  his  eyes. 

"  Sweep  and  garnish.  That's  it,  boy,"  he  said  ardently. 
"  And  what  a  sweeping,  what  a  garnishing  is  needed.  I 
wonder.  Can  it  be  done  ?  " 


20  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  That  is  what  we  intend  to  test.  It  is  to  that  great 
effort  my  colleagues  have  pledged  their  lives.  I  have 
pledged  mine  to  another.  I  tell  you,  Dad,  that  the 
sweeping  and  garnishing  isn't  sufficient.  That  is  only 
the  moral  side  of  the  campaign  that  lies  before  us,  and 
without  it  the  other  side  can  never  be  achieved.  But 
all  my  future  is  to  be  given  up  to  the  material  security 
side  of  the  problem.  It  may  be  only  my  dreaming,  but 
I  seem  to  see  a  terrible  threat  sweeping  up  over  the  east- 
ern horizon.  A  threat  so  appalling  for  us  as  to  make  the 
late  war  almost  insignificant.  Some  day,  if  you  have  the 
patience  to  listen  to  a  dreamer,  I  will  tell  you  of  the 
dread  that  persistently  haunts  me.  Meanwhile  we  have 
that — breathing  space." 

Without  troubling  himself  to  get  a  hat  Ruxton  Farlow 
passed  through  the  entrance  hall,  out  into  the  brilliant, 
warm  summer  night,  and  strode  on  towards  his  destiny. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  STRANGE  MEETING 

THE  peace  of  the  night  knocked  vainly  at  the  heart 
of  the  man  as  he  moved  along  over  the  grass-grown 
cart  track,  which  skirted  those  fields  abutting  on  the 
pathway  marking  the  broken  line  of  the  lofty  Yorkshire 
cliffs. 

The  warmth  of  the  July  air  left  him  utterly  forgetful  of 
the  light  evening  clothes  in  which  he  was  clad,  just  as 
the  grass-grown  track  failed  to  remind  him  that  the 
shoes  he  wore  had  never  been  intended  for  country 
rambles.  The  soft  sea  breeze  fanned  his  cheeks,  and  the 
bracing  air  added  vigor  of  body  if  it  left  his  mental  feel- 
ings wholly  uninspired. 

For  the  time,  at  least,  Ruxton  Farlow  was  living 
within  himself.  His  mental  digestion  was  devouring 
hungrily  of  that  force  which  had  come  to  make  his 
contemporaries  realize  that  here  was  a  man  of  that  un- 
usual calibre  which  must  ultimately  make  him  a  leader 
of  men  in  whatever  walk  of  life  he  chose  for  that  stren- 
uous journey. 

The  full  moon,  shedding  a  ghostly  glory  on  every 
hand,  yielded  him  the  necessary  guidance  for  his  foot- 
steps. It  served  his  purpose,  but  its  beauty  for  once 
left  him  unimpressed.  The  diamond-studded  sky  sug- 
gested no  jewel-bedecked  cloak  of  mysterious  night  as 
at  other  times  it  was  wont  to  appeal.  All  romance  was 


22  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

dead  for  the  time,  as  though  the  shutter  of  his  mental 
camera  had  been  closed  with  a  slam  for  the  development 
of  the  plates  within  which  held  those  living,  grim  pic- 
tures of  the  life  he  felt  himself  surrounded  by  on  every 
hand. 

He  passed  the  last  stile  and  faced  the  open  sea.  That 
smooth  limitless  expanse,  sighing  and  restless,  as  it  gently 
rocked  its  bosom  like  some  aged  crone  nursing  the  in- 
fant she  was  too  old  to  bear  herself.  He  flung  himself 
full  length  upon  a  rustling  bed  of  heather.  His  head  was 
towards  the  sea,  and  craning  over  the  very  edge  of  the 
dizzy  cliff.  There  was  no  thought  in  his  mind  of  the 
dangerous  proximity.  He  had  known  these  cliffs  almost 
from  his  birth  up.  They  were  the  friends  of  his  whole 
life,  and  their  possible  latent  treachery  was  unthinkable 
to  him.  He  propped  his  face  between  his  two  hands 
and  sank  his  elbows  deep  into  the  heather.  Then,  like 
some  schoolboy,  his  feet  were  raised  behind  him,  and 
crossed,  while  his  eyes  searched  that  mysterious  horizon 
lost  in  the  shadows  of  a  perfect  night. 

It  has  been  said  that  Ruxton  Farlow  was  an  idealist. 
But  let  there  be  no  misapprehension  about  it.  His  ideal- 
ism was  practical  and  full  of  sanity.  He  was  no  vision- 
ary. His  mind  was  ever  groping  for  the  material  wel- 
fare of  his  country.  The  moral  welfare,  he  felt,  should 
be  in  hands  far  more  capable  in  that  direction  than  his 
life  and  learning  had  made  his.  It  had  been  his  habit 
of  life  to  feed  his  mind  upon  hard  and  incontrovertible 
facts  which  bore  upon  the  goal  of  his  ideals.  He  ac- 
cepted nothing  which  was  merely  backed  by  academic 
logic.  He  demanded  the  logic  of  practice.  Theory  was 
impossible  to  him,  unless  that  theory  was  demonstrated 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  23 

in  practice.  Thus  it  was  he  kept  his  mind  alert  for  facts 
— and  again  facts. 

The  facts  which  concerned  him  at  the  moment  were 
many,  and  he  found  in  them  all,  when  arranged  in  due 
order,  one  stream  like  some  rushing  river  which  raced  on 
its  tempestuous  way  to  the  wide  sea  of  disaster  beyond. 

The  starting-point  of  his  facts  was  the  truth  that  no 
modern  combination  of  force,  however  superlative  its 
effort,  could  crush  out  of  international  existence  the 
power  of  two  peoples  with  aggregate  populations  of 
virile  strength  of  some  hundred  and  odd  million  souls. 
The  war  had  proved  that.  And  the  only  possible  peace 
resulting  from  it  had  added  the  conviction  that,  from  a 
peace  point  of  view,  the  war  had  proved  utterly  useless 
and  damaging.  Besides  the  enormous  expenditure  of 
treasure  and  the  vast  sacrifices  of  human  life,  it  had 
given  the  world  a  nominal  peace  backed  by  an  aggra- 
vation of  international  hatred  and  spleen  a  thousand 
times  greater  than  had  ever  been  known  in  history 
since  the  days  of  bare-limbed  savagery. 

What  then  was  the  outlook?  The  man  stirred  with 
that  nervous  suggestion  of  a  disturbed  mind.  War — 
war  J  On  every  hand  war — again.  Once  again  all  the 
moral  development  of  the  human  race  towards  those 
higher  planes  of  light,  learning,  and  religious  ideals  was 
shadowed  by  the  spectre  which  during  the  last  three 
years  had  flung  men  back  to  the  shadows  of  an  ancient 
savagery  and  barbarism. 

The  savage  mind  of  the  Teuton  had  broken  out  into 
a  fierce  conflagration  of  barbarism.  Again  it  would 
smoulder,  like  some  slumbering  volcano,  only  to  break 
out  again  when  the  arrogance  of  the  German  heart  told 


24  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

it  that  the  time  was  ripe  to  avenge  the  indignity  of  its 
earlier  failure. 

Ruxton  Farlow  accepted  this  as  his  basis  of  fact,  and 
followed  the  river  down  its  turbulent  course  towards  that 
sea  of  disaster  which  he  already  saw  looming  ahead.  It 
required  no  imagination.  The  course  was  a  straight  one, 
straight  as  the  crow  flies.  For  that  passion  of  hatred 
which  inspired  the  flood  brooked  no  obstruction  to  its 
course.  It  clamored  for  its  goal  and  swept  all  side  issues 
out  of  its  path.  Great  Britain  lay  in  that  sea  beyond. 
Great  Britain,  who,  in  German  eyes,  owned  the  earth, 
and  incidentally  had  snatched  even  those  inadequate  col- 
onies from  her  bosom,  which,  through  long  years  of 
diplomatic  trickery,  she  had  contrived  to  acquire.  The 
Prussian  passion  for  conquest  had  been  changed  through 
the  late  war  to  the  passionate  national  hatred  of  the  Ger- 
man people  against  Great  Britain.  This  was  clear.  So 
clear  that  the  light  which  shone  upon  it  was  painful  to 
his  mental  vision. 

What  then  was  the  resulting  position  of  the  country  he 
loved?  The  lessons  of  the  war  were  many — so  many. 
Yet  preeminently  outstanding  was  one  fact  which  smoth- 
ered all  others  in  its  significance,  and  reduced  them  all 
almost  to  nothingness.  His  father  had  dwelt  upon  the 
lack  of  national  spirit  when  war  broke  out.  That  had 
been  remedied.  The  country  had  changed  during  those 
three  years  of  suffering  and  sacrifice.  No,  his  father  had 
missed  the  great  lesson.  Yet  it  was  so  simple — so  simple. 

The  man  raised  his  head  higher,  and  folded  his  arms 
under  him  as  a  support.  He  gazed  down  at  the  calm 
summer  moonlit  sea.  So  calm,  so  peaceful,  so — seduc- 
tive to  the  straining  mind. 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  25 

He  began  to  realize  the  yearning  of  the  suicide  for  the 
peace  beyond  life.  How  easy  to  solve  all  problems. 
How  easy  to  rid  oneself  of  the  duties,  the  harassing, 
cruel  duties  imposed  by  the  Creator  of  all  life.  The  soft 
murmur  of  the  breaking  swell  upon  the  beach  below. 
One  plunge  beneath  that  shimmering  surface  and — noth- 
ing. In  that  instant  there  flashed  through  his  mind  a 
memory  of  just  such  another  sea.  The  perfect  summer 
sea.  The  great  ship,  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  age.  A 
stealing  trail  of  foam  across  the  glass-like  surface.  An 
explosion.  Then  fifteen  hundred  souls  solve  the  problem 
of  that — nothing !  Ah,  that  was  it.  That  was  the  Dan- 
ger. He  knew.  Every  thinking  human  being  knew 
that  if  Germany  had  begun  war  with  a  fleet  of  some 
three  or  four  hundred  submarines,  three  weeks  would 
have  terminated  the  war  so  far  as  Britain  was  con- 
cerned. 

He  moved  over  on  to  his  side,  and  his  movement  was 
a  further  expression  of  nervous  tension.  He  propped  his 
head  upon  one  hand  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  vague 
horizon  beyond  which  the  Teutonic  giant  was  peacefully 
slumbering,  and  his  thought  was  spoken  aloud. 

"Is  he  slumbering?"  he  asked  of  the  sea.  "  Is  he  ? 
Will  he  ever  sleep  again  ?  No,  I  think  not.  Not  at  least 
while  there  is  a  chance  that  his  intelligence  behind  the 
machine  can  render  an  island  home  untenable." 

"  Night  claims  from  the  overburdened  soul  the  truth 
which  daylight  is  denied." 

Ruxton  Farlow  sat  up  with  a  jolt.  His  dark,  search- 
ing eyes  were  turned  from  the  sea.  They  were  turned 
in  the  direction  whence  the  voice,  which  had  answered 
him,  had  proceeded.  In  the  brilliant  moonlight  he  saw 


26  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

the  outline  of  a  figure  standing  upon  the  footpath  which 
ran  parallel  to  the  coast-line.  The  figure  was  not  quite 
distinct,  but  it  was  clearly  a  woman's,  which  corroborated 
the  conviction  he  had  received  at  the  sound  of  the  voice. 

"  But  for  once  she  has  betrayed  her — trust,"  he  said, 
and  a  feeling  of  irritation  swept  over  him  that  he  had 
permitted  himself  to  respond  to  the  challenge  of  this 
stranger,  who  was  probably  something  in  the  nature  of 
one  of  life's  vagrants,  wandering  homeless  over  the  de- 
serted ways  of  the  countryside. 

Then  he  discovered  to  his  further  annoyance  that  his 
response  had  brought  forth  its  logical  result.  The  figure 
was  moving  towards  him,  and  as  it  drew  near  he  became 
aware  of  that  delightful  feminine  rustle  which  no  man 
ever  yet  found  unseductive. 

The  woman  made  no  verbal  reply  until  she  was  stand- 
ing before  him.  Ruxton  was  still  sitting  on  the  heather, 
but  his  eyes  were  wide  with  astonished  admiration,  and 
his  clean-shaven  lips  were  parted,  which  added  to  his 
whole  expression  of  incredulous  amazement. 

The  woman  standing  before  him  was  no  vagrant,  unless 
a  vagrant  could  possess  a  queenly  presence,  and  an  attire 
which  suggested  the  best  efforts  of  London  or  Paris.  He 
stared,  stared  as  might  some  schoolboy  budding  into 
manhood  at  the  sight  of  a  perfect  womanhood.  Then, 
in  a  moment,  questions  raced  through  his  head.  Who 
was  she,  and  where — where  did  she  come  from  ?  What 
freak  of  fortune  had  set  her  wandering  those  cliffs  alone 
— and  at  night? 

She  was  beautifully  tall  and  crowned  with  a  royal 
wealth  of  hair  which  remained  hatless.  Its  color  was  not 
certain  in  the  moonlight,  but  Ruxton  felt  that  it  must  be 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  27 

red-gold.  He  could  think  of  no  other  color  which  could 
match  such  a  presence.  Her  figure,  sharply  outlined  in 
the  moonlight,  was  superb.  It  suggested  all  he  had  ever 
seen  in  those  ardent  dreams  of  youth.  Her  face  pos- 
sessed something  of  the  reflected  glory  of  the  moon  lit 
by  eyes  whose  color  was  hidden  from  him,  but  which 
shone  like  great  dull  jewels  full  of  a  living  fire. 

All  these  things  he  realized  in  one  swift  comprehensive 
glance.  But  in  another  moment  his  whole  attention  was 
absorbed  by  the  rich  voice,  the  tones  of  which  were  like 
the  softest  music  of  some  foreign  southern  land. 

"  It  is  scarcely  fair  to  blame  the  night,"  she  said,  in 
smiling  protest. 

All  unprepared  for  the  encounter  Ruxton  had  nothing 
but  a  stupid  monosyllable  to  offer. 

"  No,"  he  said,  and  a  sigh  somehow  escaped  him. 

Then,  in  a  moment,  the  blood  was  set  swiftly  pulsating 
through  his  veins. 

"  May  I  sit  down  ? "  the  woman  enquired.  "  I  have 
had  a  long  walk,  and  am  a  little  tired,"  she  added  in  ex- 
planation. 

But  she  waited  for  no  permission.  And  somehow 
Ruxton  felt  that  her  expression  of  weariness  was  far  be- 
low the  mark.  She  appeared  quite  exhausted. 

"  You  are  more  than  a  little  tired,"  he  said,  with  urgent 
solicitude. 

Now  that  her  face  was  nearer  to  his  level  he  could  see 
that  she  was  indeed  very,  very  beautiful.  Her  eyes  were 
large  and  almost  oriental  in  their  shape.  Her  cheeks 
were  as  delicate  as  the  petals  of  a  lily.  The  contour  of 
her  whole  face  was  a  perfect  oval  with  just  sufficient 
lengthening  to  give  it  character. 


28  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

She  did  not  deny  him.     But  a  smile  lit  her  eyes. 

"  This  is  delicious,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh  of  content, 
turning  her  face  towards  the  sea,  and  drinking  in  deep 
draughts  of  fresh,  salt  air. 

Ruxton  endeavored  to  gather  his  faculties,  which  had 
been  completely  scattered  by  the  thrilling  shock  of  the 
encounter.  He  felt  himself  to  be  like  a  callow  youth  of 
seventeen  rather  than  a  man  of  over  thirty-five,  a  man 
whose  public  life  had  made  intercourse  with  women  of 
society  a  matter  of  every  day. 

"  You  have  had  a  long  walk  ?  "  he  enquired  wonder- 
ingly.  "  But  at  night  ?  On  these  cliffs  ?  You  are  ten 
miles  from  Dorby,  and  there  is  no  habitation  between — 
except  Dorby  Towers.  Beyond  this  there  is  a  village  or 
two,  but  no  railway  for  miles."  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  she  did  not  belong  to  this  district.  Her  cos- 
tume was  still  in  his  thoughts. 

"  I  did  not  come  from  Dorby.  Nor  from  any  of  those 
villages.  Still,  I  have  had  a  long  walk.  I  have  been  on 
my  feet  nearly  three  hours." 

As  she  offered  no  further  explanation  Ruxton  urged  her. 

"  Will  you  not  explain — more  ?  " 

"  Is  it  needed  ?  " 

The  woman  faced  round,  and  her  Eastern  eyes  were 
smiling  frankly  into  his. 

Ruxton  had  no  alternative.  He  desired  none.  The 
situation  had  suddenly  gripped  him.  He  was  caught  in 
its  toils,  and  delighted  that  it  was  so.  This  woman's 
beauty,  her  frank  unconventionality,  were  wholly  charm- 
ing. He  asked  nothing  better  than  that  she  should  satisfy 
her  whim,  and  sit  there,  beside  him,  talking — talking  of 
what  she  pleased  so  long  as  he  listened  to  the  rich  music 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  29 

in  her  voice,  and  could  watch  the  play  of  her  beautiful, 
mobile  features. 

"  No,"  he  said  deliberately.  "  There  is  no  need."  Then 
he  made  a  comprehensive  gesture  with  one  hand.  "  The 
night  is  beautiful,  it  is  a  night  of  romance  and  adventure. 
Let  us  forget  there  are  such  things  as  conventionality,  and 
just — talk.  Let  us  talk  as  this  silver  night  prompts.  Let 
us  try  and  forget  that  painful  thought  which  daylight 
brings  us  all.  As  you  say,  the  night  is  the  time  of  truth, 
while  daylight  demands  the  subterfuge  which  conceals  it." 

But  the  woman  did  not  respond  to  his  invitation.  A 
little  pucker  of  sudden  distress  marred  her  brows. 

"  Conventionality.  I  had  forgotten,"  she  said.  Then 
her  manner  became  suddenly  earnest.  She  leant  slightly 
forward,  and  her  shining  eyes  warned  Ruxton  of  the 
genuineness  of  their  appeal.  "  Yes,  I  had  truly  forgot- 
ten," she  went  on.  "  Will  you — will  you  forget  for  the 
moment  there  is  the  difference  of  sex  between  us  ?  Will 
you  forget  that  I  am  a  woman  who  has  wilfully  thrust  her 
presence  upon  a  man,  a  stranger,  and  laid  herself  open  to 
a  dreadful  interpretation  of  her  actions  ?  Will  you  simply 
regard  me  as  some  one  who  is  striving  to  unravel  those 
tangled  skeins,  which,  just  now,  seem  to  be  enveloping  a 
helpless  humanity,  and,  in  her  effort,  has  sought  out  the 
only  man  whom  she  feels  can  help  her — Mr.  Ruxton  Far- 
low,  the  man  who  will  one  day  rise  to  be  a  great  ruler  in 
his  country  ?  " 

"  You  sought  me  out  ?  "  enquired  Ruxton,  ignoring  the 
tribute  so  frankly  spoken. 

"  That  is  why  I  have  been  on  my  feet  for  three  hours. 
Will  you  do  as  I  have  asked  ?  " 

The  charm  of  this  beautiful  creature  was  greater  than 


30  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

the  man  knew.  The  situation,  as  she  put  it,  was  wholly 
impossible.  Yet  her  fascination  was  such  that  he  was 
impelled  to  hold  out  his  hand. 

"For  the  time,  at  least,  we  are  comrades  in  a  common 
cause,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  My  hand  on  it." 

The  woman  laid  a  white-gloved  hand  in  his,  and  the 
thought  in  the  man's  mind  was  regret  at  the  necessity  for 
gloves. 

Ruxton  stretched  himself  out  on  the  heather  again.  This 
time  he  was  on  his  side,  supporting  his  head  upon  his 
hand  and  facing  her.  The  moon  was  shining  full  down 
upon  her  uncovered  hair,  and  illuminating  the  perfect 
features  which  held  the  man's  gaze. 

"  And  now  for  the  tangled  skein,"  he  said  with  at- 
tempted lightness,  while  his  eyes  lit  whimsically. 

"  Ruxton  Farlow  doesn't  need  a  woman  to  point  the 
dreadful  tangle  in  which  humanity  is  involved — just  now. 
He  knows  more  of  the  threads  than  perhaps  any  man  of 
his  country.  He  was  thinking  of  them  when  he  was  run 
to  earth  here  upon  this  scented  waste  of  Nature's  riot.  He 
was  probably  pulling  apart  the  wretched  threads  himself, 
seeking  hope  in  his  endeavor,  hope  for  the  future,  hope 
for  the  future  of  this  land  we  both  love,  and  for  its  people. 
Doubtless  he,  as  others,  has  found  the  task  something 
more  than  arduous,  and  no  doubt  he  has  searched  the 
scene  that  lies  below  him,  yearning  for  that  peace  of  mind 
which  oblivion  has  yielded  in  recent  days  to  so  many 
souls  which  have  passed  beneath  the  shining  surface 
which  encircles  this  iron-bound  coast." 

Ruxton's  eyes  devoured  the  entrancing  animation  which 
accompanied  the  words.  An  added  amazement  had  leapt 
within  him.  She  had  fathomed  his  secret  feelings  as  his 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  31 

eyes  had  searched  the  surface  of  the  shimmering  summer 
sea.  Her  understanding  was  even  more  uncanny  than 
had  been  her  sudden  apparition.  Who  was  she  ?  he  kept 
reiterating  to  himself.  Who  ?  And  where  did  she  come 
from  ? 

"  I  felt  all  that,"  he  found  himself  saying. 

"  I  know.  I  have  felt  it  all,  too.  But  your  feeling  had 
no  inspiration  in  cowardice.  It  is  the  mind  of  the  imagi- 
native that  sees  an  exaggeration  in  all  that  offends  the 
sensibilities.  It  is  the  mind  that  distorts  with  painful 
fancy  the  threat  which  has  not  yet  fallen.  It  is  the  mind 
which  is  inspired  by  a  heart  strong  with  hope,  which  in 
its  turn  owes  its  inspiration  to  a  spirit  possessed  of  a 
great  power  to  do.  Of  such  spirit  are  the  leaders  of 
men.  Their  mental  agony  is  theirs  alone,  they  suffer  and 
do  for  those  others  who  do  not  possess  power  to  do  for 
themselves." 

The  woman's  eyes  were  turned  upon  the  distant  horizon 
again.  Their  gaze  was  introspective,  and  she  talked  as 
she  thought,  regardless  for  the  time  of  the  man  beside  her. 

But  he  was  more  mindful.  No  word  of  hers  was  lost 
upon  him.  He  was  marvelling  at  her  depth  of  under- 
standing, he  was  marvelling  at  her  simplicity  of  expression. 
And,  through  it  all,  he  was  noting  and  endeavoring  to 
place  that  suggestion  of  foreign  intonation  in  her  perfect 
English  accent.  More  and  more  was  this  splendid  crea- 
ture becoming  an  enigma.  More  and  more  was  he  be- 
coming absorbed  in  her,  and  more  surely  was  his  promise 
of  simple  comradeship  becoming  an  impossibility. 

"  And  the  threat — which  inspires  these  phantasms  ?  "  he 
said,  as  the  musical  tones  ceased,  and  the  murmur  of  the 
sea  came  up  to  them  in  their  eyrie. 


32  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  It  is  a  reality." 

Ruxton  stirred.  He  sat  up  once  more,  and  his  gaze, 
for  the  moment,  left  the  beautiful  profile,  and  wandered 
towards  the  eastern  horizon. 

"  I  know,"  he  said  simply. 

"  I  have  seen,"  came  the  impressive  rejoinder. 

Ruxton's  eyes  came  back  to  the  woman's  face. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  ?  " 

His  request  was  made  without  a  shadow  of  excitement. 
That  was  his  way  when  confronted  with  a  crisis.  Now  he 
understood  why  she  had  worn  herself  to  weariness  for 
three  hours  on  her  feet.  But  for  all  the  interest  of  the 
moment  his  mind  was  still  questioning — Who  ? 

"  The  telling  would  be  worthless.  It  would  convey 
simply — words.  There  is  better  than  telling." 

"  But  the  world  is  at  peace  now,"  Ruxton  suggested. 

"  It  was  at  peace  before,  when — the  telling  came  from 
all  ends  of  the  world." 

"  And  no  one  listened." 

"  Those  who  could  have  helped  refused  to  hear.  And 
those  who  heard  were  powerless." 

"  So  now  you  come ?  " 

"  To  one  who,  eschewing  all  that  his  wealth  and  posi- 
tion could  give  him  of  life's  leisure  and  delight,  has 
dedicated  his  whole  future  to  the  land  I — have  learned  to 
love." 

"  And  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?  "  Ruxton  was 
smiling,  but  behind  his  smile  was  a  brain  searching  and 
hungry. 

"  Do  ?  Ah,  that  is  it."  The  woman  turned  swiftly. 
All  her  calm  had  been  caught  up  in  a  hot  emotion.  Her 
eyes  were  wide  and  shining  as  she  leant  towards  him  and 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  33 

searched  his  fair  face  and  dark  eyes.  "  There  is  peace  as 
you  said.  But  it  is  only  words  written  upon  paper  with 
ink  that  is  manufactured,  and  by  a  pen  also  manufactured. 
The  whole  peace  is  only  manufactured.  There  is  no  peace 
in  the  hearts  of  the  leaders  of  nations,  only  hate,  which 
has  inspired  a  passionate  yearning  for  revenge,  a  passion 
which  has  intensified  a  thousandfold  all  effort  towards  the 
destruction  of  the  hated.  Need  I  tell  you  of  the  Teuton 
feelings  ?  Ruined,  blasted  as  has  been  that  great 
machine,  both  military  and  industrial,  there  is  still  the 
Teuton  mind  ready  and  yearning  for  such  a  revenge  as 
will  stagger  all  conscious  life.  Well  may  the  sensitive 
imagination  distort  and  magnify  the  threat  that  cannot 
yet  be  grasped.  Well  may  the  straining  mind  contem- 
plate with  ecstasy  the  oblivion  gained  by  those  poor  crea- 
tures on  the  Lusitania.  But  for  those  who  would  learn, 
and  know,  and  see,  there  is  a  better,  braver  death  to  die 
than  the  bosom  of  the  ocean  can  offer.  I  tell  you  there  is 
work  for  every  true  Briton,  man  and  woman.  Work  that 
can  offer  little  else  than  the  reward  of  a  conscience  that, 
maybe,  is  rendered  easy  in  death.  The  men  who  would 
lead  Britain  must  be  men  with  eyes,  and  ears,  and  mind 
wide  open.  The  time  has  gone  by  when  England's  politi- 
cians may  sit  down  in  luxurious  offices  and  enjoy  the 
liberal  salaries  this  country  so  generously  dispenses.  They 
must  learn  first  hand  of  the  dangers  which  threaten  these 
impregnable  shores.  Impregnable  ?  That  has  been  the 
fetish  which  has  been  the  ruin  of  Britain's  national  spirit. 
But  I  tell  you,  as  surely  as  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow  I 
can  prove  to  you  that  impregnability  can  never  again  be 
applied  to  these  splendid  shores.  Remember,  these  are 
the  days  when  victories  and  destruction  are  wrought  by 


34  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

thought  in  peace  time.  The  days  of  simple  brute  strength 
have  died  for  all  time.  And  that  is  why  I  have  travelled 
far  to  seek  Ruxton  Farlow." 

"  You  have  sought  me  to  tell  me  all  this  that  I  have 
thought  for  months.  That  I  have  felt.  That  in  my  heart 
I  have  known  as  surely  as  that  night  follows  day.  You 
have  sought  me"  he  added  reflectively. 

The  stranger  leant  still  further  towards  him,  and  the 
man  thrilled  at  the  contiguity.  So  close  was  she  that  her 
breath  fanned  his  cheek,  and  he  found  himself  gazing 
into  the  eager,  beautiful  eyes. 

"  And  have  I  not  done  right  ?  Have  I  not  done  right  to 
come  to  you,  who  have  felt,  and  thought,  and  known  these 
things  for  months — if  I  can  show  you  even  more  than  in 
your  worst  moments  you  have  ever  dreamed  of  ?  " 

It  was  an  intense  moment.  Its  intensity  for  the  man 
was  well-nigh  overpowering.  Was  this  wonderful  crea- 
ture some  brilliant  siren  luring  him  to  destruction  for  very 
wantonness,  or  in  the  interest  of  others?  Was  she  just  as 
she  represented,  just  an  ardent  patriot,  to  whom  chance 
had  revealed  some  damaging  secret  of  his  country's 
enemies,  or  was  she  merely  a  woman  endowed  with  super- 
lative beauty  exercising  her  attraction  in  those  enemies'  in- 
terests ?  These  things  flashed  through  his  brain,  even  as 
those  feelings  of  sex  stirred  his  blood  and  made  for  denial. 
For  a  moment  the  mental  side  of  him  rose  dominant. 

"  You  are  a  foreigner,"  he  challenged,  in  a  voice  he 
hardly  recognized  as  his  own. 

"  I  am  a  Pole." 

The  admission  came  promptly. 

"  You  speak  English — perfectly,"  he  persisted  in  the 
same  voice. 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  35 

"  I  am— glad." 

"  Where  were  you — during  the  war  ?  " 

"  In  England." 

The  questions  and  answers  flew  back  and  forth  without 
a  semblance  of  hesitation. 

"  Yes,  yes."  Then  the  man  mused.  "  There  were 
thousands  of  foreigners  at  large  in  England — then." 

"  But  not  all  were — spies." 

The  man  lowered  his  eyes.  A  flush  stole  up  to  his 
brow.  It  was  a  flush  of  shame. 

"  I — I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  The  mind  had 
yielded  to  the  man. 

14  Why  should  you  ?  Your  country  should  be  first  in 
your  thoughts.  You  have  not  hurt  me." 

Ruxton  passed  one  hand  across  his  broad,  fair  fore- 
head. 

44  But  you — a  Pole.     It  seems " 

44  It  seems  that  I  must  have  some  motive  other  than  I 
have  stated.  I  have."  A  bitter  laugh  accompanied  the 
admission.  Quite  suddenly  she  threw  her  arms  wide  in 
a  dramatic  gesture.  44  Look  at  me,"  she  cried.  *4  You 
see  a  Pole,  but  before  all  things  you  see  a  woman.  Give 
riot  to  your  heart,  and  leave  your  head  for  other  things. 
Then  you  will  understand  my  motives.  I  have  lived 
through  centuries  of  horror  during  that  terrible  war.  A 
horror  that  even  you,  who  know  the  horrors  committed, 
will  never  be  able  to  understand.  The  innocent  women 
and  children  in  Belgium  and  France,  and  my  own  coun- 
try, on  your  own  shores,  on  the  high  seas.  O  God,"  she 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  Then,  in  a  moment,  she 
looked  up.  4<  Think — think,  if  at  some  future  time  the 
Teuton  demons  overrun  this  beautiful  land  I  love.  The 


36  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

past,  those  horrors  of  which  I  have  spoken  are  nothing  to 
that  which  will  be  committed  here  in  England.  Now  do 
you  understand  ?  Now — will  you  let  me  show  you  what 
— I  can  show  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  understand — now." 

"  And  you  will  grant  my  request  ?  "  The  urgency  was 
intense.  But  in  a  moment  the  woman  went  on  in  a 
changed  tone.  A  soft  smile  accompanied  her  next 
words.  "  But  no.  Don't  answer  now.  It  would  not  be 
fair  to  yourself.  It  would  not  be  fair  to  your  country.  It 
would  even  deny  all  that  I  believe  of  you.  Keep  your 
answer.  You  will  give  it  to  me — later.  I  will  not  let  you 
forget.  Now  I  must  go." 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  and  Ruxton  watched  her  with 
stirring  feelings  as  she  occupied  herself  with  that  truly 
feminine  process  of  smoothing  out  the  creases  of  the  cos- 
tume which  had  suffered  by  contact  with  the  heather. 

At  last  she  held  out  her  white-gloved  hand,  and  Ruxton 
sprang  to  his  feet.  He  realized  that  she  was  about  to 
vanish  out  of  his  life  as  swiftly  and  mysteriously  as  she 
had  entered  it. 

"  You  are  going  ?  "  he  said  quickly. 

"  Yes.     But  you  will  be  reminded." 

The  man  held  the  gloved  hand  a  shade  longer  than 
was  necessary. 

"  But  on  these  cliffs  ?  Alone  ?  "  Somehow  her  going 
had  become  impossible  to  him. 

But  the  woman  laughed  easily. 

"  It  will  be  only  a  few  moments  on  these  cliffs.  It  is 
nothing.  Remember  I  have  been  wandering  about  for 
three  hours — alone." 

"  But— Good-bye  1 " 


A  STRANGE  MEETING  37 

The  man  made  his  farewell  regretfully.  He  had  been 
about  to  ask  her  how,  with  ten  miles  to  Dorby,  and  a 
considerable  distance  to  other  villages,  she  would  only 
be  on  the  cliffs  a  few  moments.  But  he  felt  that  her  com- 
ing and  her  going  were  her  secret,  and  he  had  no  right 
to  pry  into  it — yet. 

"  Good-bye." 

The  woman  turned  away,  but  was  promptly  arrested 
by  a  swift  question. 

"  May  I  not  know  your  name  ?  " 

The  stranger  faced  him  once  more,  and  her  smile  lit 
up  her  radiant  features  till  Ruxton  felt  that  never  in  his 
life  had  he  seen  anything  to  equal  her  beauty. 

"  My  name  ?  Yes — why  not  ?  It  is  Vladimir.  Vita 
Vladimir." 

Then,  in  a  moment,  the  man  stood  gazing  after  her, 
as  the  brilliant  moonlight  outlined  the  perfect  symmetry 
of  her  receding  figure. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  MYSTERY 

RUXTON  FARLOW's  return  home  was  even  more  pre- 
occupied than  had  been  his  going.  An  entirely  new  sen- 
sation was  stirring  within  him.  Before,  his  thoughts  had 
been  flowing  along  the  troubled  channel  of  affairs,  all  of 
which  bore  solely  upon  the  purpose  of  his  life.  Now 
their  flow  had  been  further  confused  by  the  addition  of 
an  emotion,  which,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  might 
well  have  leavened  the  most  gloomy  forebodings.  In- 
stead, however,  it  was  rather  like  an  artist  engaged  on 
painting  a  picture  of  tragic  significance  who  suddenly 
discovers  that  another  hand  has  added  some  detail, 
which,  while  it  is  still  a  part  of  the  subject  portrayed,  yet 
renders  the  whole  a  masterpiece  of  incongruity. 

The  coming  of  a  woman  into  the  affairs  of  his  life 
seemed  to  him  as  incongruous  as  it  was  pleasant,  and,  in 
the  circumstances,  justified.  It  was  an  element  all  un- 
considered  before.  His  association  with  women  until 
now  had  been  the  simple  parrying  of  the  feminine  shafts 
levelled  at  him  in  the  process  of  ordinary  social  inter- 
course in  the  position  he  occupied  in  life.  He  was  by  no 
means  a  man  who  took  no  delight  in  women's  society. 
On  the  contrary.  But  his  purpose  in  life  had  always 
been  too  big  as  yet  to  permit  his  dwelling  upon  those 
pleasures  which  no  real  manhood  can  ever  ignore. 

Women  were  to  him  part  of  the  most  exalted  side  of  a 


THE  MYSTERY  39 

man's  life.  His  ideals  in  that  direction  were  as  wholly 
unworldly  as  his  ideals  were  practical  in  every  other  di- 
rection. From  his  earliest  youth,  due  to  the  death  of  his 
mother  at  his  birth,  he  had  never  experienced  a  woman's 
influence  upon  his  life,  and  thus  he  had  been  left  to  the 
riot  of  imagination,  which,  in  very  truth,  had  been  his 
safeguarding  against  the  operation  of  the  matrimonial 
market  of  social  London  in  the  midst  of  which  he  had 
found  himself  plunged. 

Now,  under  conditions  wholly  robbed  of  every  conven- 
tion, he  had  suddenly  been  confronted  by  a  wonderful 
creature,  who,  to  his  vivid  imagination,  appealed  as  the 
most  beautiful  of  all  her  beautiful  sex.  Furthermore  the 
contact  had  been  brought  about  through  those  very 
ideals  and  purposes  to  which  he  had  devoted  his  life. 
And,  moreover,  the  wonder  of  it  all  was  that  his  purpose 
was  apparently  her  purpose,  and  she  had  sought  him  be- 
cause this  was  so.  Herein  lay  the  extraordinary  incon- 
gruity of  a  sex  attraction  brought  about  by  the  threat- 
ened tragedy  overshadowing  them  all. 

Vita  Vladimir ! 

It  was  a  name  such  as  he  might  have  discovered  any- 
where amongst  the  foreign  colony  in  Soho.  His  attrac- 
tion towards  the  woman  afforded  no  glamor  to  the  name. 
None  at  all.  He  told  himself  frankly  it  did  not  fit  her. 
Furthermore  it  left  him  unconvinced  that  it  truly  be- 
longed to  her.  Yet  she  said  she  was  a  Pole.  And  some- 
where in  the  back  cells  of  memory  there  was  a  sort  of 
hazy  recollection  that  "Vladimir"  had  some  connection 
with  Polish  history. 

However,  the  question  of  her  name  left  him  cold. 
Only  the  vivid  picture  of  her  personality  remained  in  his 


40  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

mind.  Her  charm,  her  ardor,  her  beauty,  and  that  ex- 
traordinary suggestion  of  mystery,  conveyed  in  her  cos- 
tume, and  the  evasion  of  the  details  of  her  coming  and 
going — these  things  had  caught  the  imagination  and  the 
youth  in  him,  and  acted  upon  them  like  champagne. 

He  strove  to  thrust  aside  these  things  and  consider 
her  only  through  the  purpose  on  which  she  had  sought 
him  out.  She  knew,  and  had  seen,  the  realities  of  the 
threat  which  he  believed  to  be  hanging  over  his  country. 
She  could,  and  would,  show  him  these  things. 

Suddenly  on  the  impulse  of  a  reasonable  incredulity 
he  asked  himself  if  he  were  dreaming.  The  whole  thing 
must  be  a  mere  phantasm,  the  outcome  of  all  the  troub- 
led thought  which  had  occupied  him  for  so  long.  But 
she  had  told  him  he  would  hear  from  her  again,  and 
then  that  tiny  white-gloved  hand.  He  felt  its  clasp  now, 
as  it  had  lain  in  his  strong  palm.  No,  it  was  no  dream. 
She  was  real — and  she  was  very,  very  beautiful. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  great  colonnade  which 
formed  the  entrance  porch  of  his  home  the  woman's 
personality  had  dominated  all  his  endeavor  to  regard  the 
incident  from  any  other  point  of  view.  The  woman  had 
absorbed  all  that  was  in  him,  and  a  curious,  deep,  thrill- 
ing sensation  of  delight  at  the  encounter  had  completely 
thrust  into  the  background  the  purpose  which  had 
brought  it  about.  All  that  which  we  in  our  considera- 
tion of  the  affairs  of  life  are  apt  to  despise,  and  even 
leave  out  of  our  reckoning  altogether,  had  asserted  itself. 
It  was  the  sex  instinct,  which  no  power  of  human  men- 
tality can  resist. 

Ruxton  had  no  wish  to  meet  his  father  again  that 
night.  He  wanted  solitude.  He  wanted  to  think  and 


THE  MYSTERY  41 

dream,  as  all  youth  desires  to  think  and  dream,  when 
the  floodgates  of  sex  are  opened,  and  it  finds  itself 
caught  in  the  first  rush  of  its  tide. 

Glancing  at  his  watch  he  discovered  it  to  be  close 
upon  midnight.  But  the  hour  had  no  significance  in  his 
present  mood.  His  father  would  have  retired,  and  the 
library  would  be  empty,  so  he  passed  up  the  oak  stair- 
way with  the  determination  to  smoke  a  final  cigar,  and 
let  his  thoughts  riot  over  the  delectable  banquet  the 
evening  had  provided  for  them. 

But  that  particular  pleasure  was  definitely  denied  him. 
When  he  entered  the  library  the  lights  were  still  on,  and 
he  beheld  his  father's  curly  white  head  still  bent  over  the 
table  at  which  he  was  wont  to  attend  to  his  private  cor- 
respondence. 

The  old  man  looked  up  as  the  other  walked  down  the 
long  book-lined  room  towards  him.  His  deep-set  eyes 
were  smiling  as  they  were  ever  ready  to  smile  upon  the 
companion  of  his  wifeless  life. 

"  Finished  your  ramble  ?  "  he  enquired  pleasantly. 

Ruxton  returned  the  smile  and  flung  himself  upon  a 
long  old  settle  before  he  replied. 

"  The  ramble  is  finished,"  he  said,  preparing  to  light 
a  cigar. 

Their  eyes  met.  The  father  knew  there  remained 
something  as  yet  unspoken  behind  the  reply.  He 
waited.  But  Ruxton's  decision  was  not  yet  taken. 

"Finished  your  letters  yet?"  he  enquired  from  behind 
a  cloud  of  smoke. 

The  bright  blue  eyes  surveying  him  twinkled. 

"  One  more,"  his  father  said. 

"  Go  ahead  then." 


42  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Sir  Andrew  knew  by  the  tone  that  ultimately  the  un- 
spoken word  was  to  come.  He  glanced  down  at  his 
papers  with  a  sigh. 

"  I  believe,  after  all,  I  shall  have  to  break  with  some 
of  my  old-fashioned  habits.  It  is  an  awful  thing  to  con- 
template at  my  time  of  life.  I  think  I  must  be  getting 
old.  The  burden  of  private  correspondence  begins  to 
weigh.  I  have  always  held  that  a  private  secretary  for 
such  a  purpose  is  waste  of  money,  and  the  undesirable 
admission  of  another  into  one's  private  life." 

Ruxton  stretched  out  his  long  legs.  His  bulk  almost 
completely  filled  the  settle. 

"  It's  hard  work  for  Yorkshire  to  change  its  habit.  A 
feature  applying  pretty  generally  to  the  Briton.  I  only 
wonder  a  man  of  your  vast  fortune  has  clung  to  such 
habits  so  long.  I,  who  possess  but  a  twentieth  of  the 
fortune  you  possess,  find  I  cannot  do  without  one." 

"  But  then  you  are  a  political  man,"  his  father  smiled 
drily. 

Ruxton  nodded.  "  And  in  consequence  I  am  saved 
much  heartburning." 

"  Yes."  Sir  Andrew  gathered  up  a  sheaf  of  sealed  en- 
velopes and  flung  them  into  his  post  basket.  "Twenty- 
five  letters.  Answers  to  cranks.  Answers  to  those  phi- 
lanthropists who  love  to  do  good  with  other  folks'  money. 
Answers  to  beggars,  to  would-be  blackmailers,  to  public 
institutions  whose  chief  asset  is  a  carefully  compiled  list 
of  likely  subscribers,  and  then — those  whom  we  have  de- 
cided to  encourage — the  inventors.  Here  is  our  friend 
Charles  Smith."  He  picked  up  the  last  letter  remaining 
to  be  dealt  with.  "  What  am  I  going  to  say  to  him  ?  " 

The  old  man  scratched  one  shaggy  eyebrow  with  the 


THE  MYSTERY  43 

point  of  his  penholder — one  of  his  signs  of  doubt  and  per- 
plexity. 

"  This  secrecy  business  adds  importance  to  the  reply," 
he  added. 

Ruxton  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Let's  read  it  again,"  he  said. 

His  father  passed  the  letter  across,  and  sat  watching 
the  concentrated  brows  of  his  son,  while  the  latter  re- 
perused  the  contents. 

The  watching  man  was  about  to  turn  back  to  his  desk 
when  his  eyes  abruptly  widened  questioningly.  Ruxton 
had  suddenly  sat  bolt  upright,  and  a  quick  flush  of  sup- 
pressed excitement  spread  over  his  strong  expressive  fea- 
tures. 

"  Veevee,  London  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  A  code  address 
which  is  obviously  a  word  made  out  of  initial  letters. 
V.  V."  Then  he  looked  across  at  his  startled  parent. 
"  I  say,  Dad,  there's  mystery  here  all  right — mystery 
everywhere  to-night.  V.  V.  Those  initials  fit  Vita 
Vladimir  exactly." 

"  Precisely.  Also  Vivian  Vansittart,"  smiled  his 
father.  "  Or  any  other  high-sounding  names  begin- 
ning with  V." 

Ruxton  passed  the  letter  back  with  a  laugh.  Then  he 
flung  himself  back  on  the  settle. 

"  Wait  until  I  have  told  you  what  happened  to  me  to- 
night. Then  write  to  that  man  and  give  him  a  definite 
appointment  at  some  time  when  you  can  devote  several 
hours  to  him — if  necessary." 

Sir  Andrew  pushed  his  high-backed  chair  well  away 
from  the  desk  and  helped  himself  to  a  cigar. 

"  This  is  one  more  than  I  have  any  right  to  to-night, 


44  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Rux,"  he  said,  as  he  crossed  his  stout  legs,  "  but  go 
ahead." 

Ruxton  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  begin  his  story.  The 
truth  was  he  felt  reluctant  to  let  any  one  share  his  secret. 
Furthermore  he  was  doubtful,  in  the  light  of  cold  words, 
if  that  which  he  had  to  tell  would  carry  the  conviction 
which  possessed  him.  It  seemed  impossible ;  and  then 
the  personality  of  Vita.  No.  But  he  felt  that  the  story 
must  be  told,  if  only  in  justification  of  his  demand  for 
Mr.  Charles  Smith. 

"  Look  here,  Dad,"  he  began  at  last.  "  I  know  you 
regard  me  as  a  bit  of  a  dreamer,  but  on  more  than  one 
occasion  you  have  been  pleased  to  say  you  consider  my 
judgment  pretty  sound.  Perhaps  it  is.  I  don't  know. 
Maybe  to-night  I  have  been  unduly  affected  by  feelings 
which  don't  usually  carry  me  away ;  but,  even  so,  I 
think  I  have  retained  sufficient  of  our  Yorkshire  phlegm 
to  get  a  right  estimate  of  things,  and  the  things  which 
have  happened  to-night  I  am  convinced  are  connected 
with  the  V.  V.  in  that  letter.  I  was  on  the  cliffs,  lying 
on  the  heather,  looking  out  to  sea,  when  a  woman  came 
along  who  had  been  endeavoring  to  hunt  me  out  for 
three  hours.  She  was  the  most  beautiful  creature  I  have 
ever  seen.  She  does  not  belong  to  Dorby,  or  the  neigh- 
borhood. She  was  dressed  to  perfection,  and  was  hat- 
less,  and  her  name  was  Vita  Vladimir.  I  tell  you  these 
details  because  they  are  all  significant,  and  I  want  you 
to  understand  that  first." 

"  Go  on,"  his  father  nodded. 

"  Go  on  ?  "  Ruxton  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  It's  easier 
to  say  than  to  do — adequately.  Anyway  this  is  the  whole 
story." 


THE  MYSTERY  45 

Both  men's  cigars  had  been  entirely  consumed  by  the 
time  Ruxton  Farlow  had  finished  his  long  recital.  He 
told  his  story  of  his  meeting  with  Vita  Vladimir  with  all 
the  simple  force  which  was  part  of  the  Russian  nature  in 
him.  And,  in  spite  of  his  fears  to  the  contrary,  none  of 
its  dramatic  significance  was  lost  in  the  telling. 

His  father  read  in  the  story  all  his  son  wanted  him  to 
read.  But  he  read  deeper  even  than  that,  and  the  depth 
of  his  reading  was  a  trespass  upon  the  ground  which 
Ruxton  fondly  believed  he  had  kept  to  himself.  The 
shrewd  Yorkshire  mind  probed  deep  to  the  vivid  im- 
pression this  Vita  Vladimir  had  made  upon  his  only  son, 
and  as  yet  he  was  not  sure  that  he  shared  the  boy's  en- 
thusiasm. However,  long  years  of  understanding  had 
convinced  him  of  Ruxton's  clarity  of  judgment  in  vital 
matters,  and  his  earnest  recital  of  the  woman's  warning 
and  promises  carried  the  conviction  that,  in  spite  of  the 
boy's  attraction,  his  judgment  in  this  matter  had  remained 
unimpaired.  He  accepted  the  facts,  but,  to  himself,  de- 
plored the  means  by  which  they  had  been  conveyed. 

"  It  is  quite  remarkable,  boy,  quite  remarkable,"  was 
his  only  comment  at  the  conclusion  of  the  story.  Then 
he  held  the  man  Smith's  letter  in  his  hand  and  glanced 
at  the  postscript. 

But  Ruxton  was  not  satisfied  with  such  comment.  He 
was  anxious  that  his  hard-headed  father  should  see  eye 
to  eye  with  him. 

"But  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  he  demanded,  with 
suppressed  feeling. 

The  great  ship-owner  took  some  moments  formulating 
his  reply. 

"  One's  impression  from  your  telling  is  the  honesty  of 


46  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

the  woman,"  he  said  deliberately  at  last.  "  There  are 
three  possibilities  in  the  matter.  First  that  she  is  honest 
Second  that  she — belongs  to  our  enemies.  Third  that 
she  is  a — crank.  But  the  second  and  third  I  think  can 
be  dismissed.  Why  should  our  enemies  make  such  an 
extraordinary  proposal  to  you,  or  to  anybody,  short  of  a 
man  important  enough  to  be  done  away  with  ?  The  sug- 
gestion of  '  crank '  is  quite  dispensable,  in  view  of  the 
significance  of  the  story  as  it  bears  on  all  the  possibilities 
of  the  future  we  have  discussed.  Accepting  her  honesty, 
I  should  say  that  the  answer  to  this  letter  will  be  received 
by  her  for — transmission.  Well  ?  " 

"  Then  answer  that  letter  in  the  affirmative,  and  see 
this  Charles  Smith,  Dad,"  cried  Ruxton,  rising  and  pac- 
ing the  floor.  "  I  am  going  to  probe  this  matter  to  the 
bottom."  Then  he  came  to  a  halt  before  the  desk,  and 
gazed  down  into  his  father's  serious  eyes.  "There  is 
mystery  abroad,  Dad.  There  is  more  than  mystery. 
There  is  something  tangible.  A  great  and  threatening 
danger  which  must  be  nullified.  We  don't  know  what  it 
is  yet.  We  can  only  surmise,  but  surmise  is  futile.  We 
must  go  and  find  out,  as  she  said.  We  must  learn  these 
things  first  hand.  I  shall  go." 

"That  is  what  I  felt  you  had— decided."  The  old 
man  sighed.  "  I  can't  disguise  my  regret,  my  boy,  but 
it  is — in  the  light  of  your  life's  purpose — your  duty  to  go. 
I  will  do  my  part.  I  will  see  this — Charles  Smith." 

The  General  Election  had  come  and  gone  like  a 
hurricane  of  emotion  sweeping  the  country  from  one  end 
to  the  other.  Passionate  opinion  had  been  stirred,  it  had 
been  brought  to  a  feverish  surface  and  had  been  hurled 


THE  MYSTERY  47 

from  lip  to  lip  in  that  spirit  of  contention,  than  which  no 
more  bitter  feeling  can  be  roused  in  the  affairs  of  modern 
life.  For  once,  however,  Britain  was  far  less  divided 
than  usual.  Even  prejudice,  that  blind,  unreasoning, 
unthinking  prejudice  which  usually  characterizes  the 
voter,  who  claims  for  himself  "  good  citizenship,"  had 
somehow  been  shaken  to  its  foundations.  It  was  an 
almost  awakened  Britain  which  marched  on  the  polls  and 
registered  its  adhesion  and  support  to  the  men  who,  out 
of  the  muckhole  of  demagoguery,  had  risen  superior  even 
to  themselves  and  yielded  to  the  real  needs  of  the  country. 

And  the  voice  of  the  new  Britain  had  been  heard  like 
a  clarion  across  the  Empire,  so  that,  at  the  close  of  the 
polls,  the  world  knew  that,  as  Ruxton  Farlow  had  said, 
the  British  housewife  had  determined  upon  that  sweeping 
and  garnishing  so  sadly  needed,  and  that  once  and  for 
all  she  had  decided  to  bolt  and  bar  the  back  door  through 
which  for  so  long  she  had  been  assailed  by  her  enemies. 

Ruxton  Farlow  was  on  his  way  to  his  little  old 
Georgian  house  in  Smith  Square,  Westminster.  He  was 
returning  from  Downing  Street,  where  he  had  been 
summoned  hastily  and  urgently  by  the  new  Prime  Min- 
ister. He  had  found  that  electrical  individual  busily 
engaged  in  superintending  the  removal  of  his  effects, 
aided  by  his  equally  energetic  secretary,  from  one  house 
in  Downing  Street  to  that  Mecca  of  all  political  aspira- 
tions, "  No.  10." 

Ruxton  had  avoided  the  vehicles  and  packing-cases 
at  the  door  and  was  conducted  to  the  great  little  man's 
library.  And  on  his  entry  the  secretary  had  been 
promptly  dismissed.  The  interview  was  brief.  It  was 
so  brief  that  Ruxton,  who  understood  and  preferred  such 


48  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

methods,  was  not  a  little  disconcerted.  There  had  been 
a  hearty  hand-shake,  a  few  swiftly  spoken  compliments 
and  a  quick  assurance,  and  once  more  the  big  man  found 
himself  picking  his  way  amongst  the  debris  on  the  door- 
steps. 

But  this  time  he  had  scarcely  seen  the  obstructions  he 
had  to  avoid.  He  dodged  them  almost  mechanically. 
His  heart  was  beating  high  with  a  quiet  exultation,  for 
he  had  left  the  presence  of  the  wonderful  little  man,  who 
seemed  to  live  his  whole  life  on  the  edge  of  his  nervous 
system,  with  the  assurance  of  a  junior  Cabinet  rank  in 
the  new  Ministry. 

But  the  first  rush  of  his  tumultuous  feelings  quickly 
subsided,  as  was  his  way,  and  he  remembered  that  which 
was  at  once  his  duty  and  desire.  So  he  turned  into  a 
post-office  and  despatched  a  code  wire  to  his  father  in 
Yorkshire  that  he  might  be  the  first  person  in  the  world 
to  learn  6f  his  early  triumph.  Yes,  he  wanted  his  to  be 
the  first  congratulations.  He  smiled  to  himself  as  he  left 
the  post-office.  The  entire  press  had  been  devoting  itself 
to  forecasting  the  personnel  of  the  new  Cabinet,  but  not  in 
one  single  instance  had  his  name  been  included  in  the  lists. 

It  was  with  a  sense  bordering  on  perfect  delight  that 
he  turned  into  the  calm  backwater  of  Smith  Square. 
And  for  once  the  dingy  atmosphere  took  on  a  reflected 
glory  from  his  feelings.  The  square  church,  with  its  four 
squat  towers,  handsome  enough  in  its  architecture  but 
drab  of  hue,  might  have  been  some  structure  of  Gothic 
splendor.  Even  the  impoverished  trees  which  sur- 
rounded it  had  something  of  the  verdant  splendor  of 
spring  in  them  on  this  late  summer  afternoon.  The 
sparrows  and  the  pigeons  failed  even  to  bring  home  to 


THE  MYSTERY  49 

him  the  greyness  of  life  in  a  London  square.  For  the 
moment  those  mental  anxieties  which  had  haunted  him 
ever  since  the  Great  War  were  powerless  to  depress  his 
outlook.  Life  was  very  good — very  good  indeed. 

He  crossed  the  square  and  let  himself  into  his  house 
with  a  latch-key.  He  crossed  the  panelled  hall  and  flung 
his  hat  and  cane  upon  a  table  and  hurried  up  the  stair- 
way to  his  study.  He  had  been  interrupted  in  his  corre- 
spondence by  the  Prime  Minister's  summons,  and  now 
he  was  anxious  to  be  done  with  it,  and  be  free  to  contem- 
plate the  new  situation  in  the  light  of  those  many  purposes 
he  had  in  view. 

As  he  sat  down  at  his  desk  the  door  in  the  oak 
panelling  at  the  far  end  of  the  room  was  thrust  open  and 
his  secretary  appeared.  In  a  few  moments  these  two 
were  absorbed  in  their  work  with  a  thoroughness  which 
was  characteristic  of  Ruxton.  Thus  for  two  hours  and 
more  the  memory  of  his  promotion  was  completely  thrust 
into  the  background. 

The  butler  had  just  brought  him  in  a  tray  of  afternoon 
tea,  and  the  two  men  took  the  opportunity  to  abandon 
their  work  for  a  few  minutes'  leisure. 

Ruxton  leant  back  in  his  chair  and  lit  a  cigar,  while  the 
secretary  lit  a  cigarette  and  poured  out  the  tea. 

"  Our  labors  have  borne  fruit,  Heathcote,"  said  Rux- 
ton, seizing  the  moment  to  impart  his  good  news.  "  We 
are  raised  from  the  rank  and  file.  Our  future  lies  on  the 
front  benches." 

"The  Cabinet?" 

"  Yes,  the  Cabinet." 

Nor  could  Ruxton  quite  control  the  delight  surging 
through  him. 


50  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Now  we  begin  to  see  the  development  of  all  those 
long-laid  plans  we  have  so  ceaselessly  worked  upon, 
Heathcote,"  he  went  on.  "  Now  we  are  getting  nearer 
to  the  position  which  will  enable  us  to  bring  about 
something  of  that  security  for  this  old  country  for  which 
we  both  so  ardently  long.  Now — Heathcote — now  !  " 

There  was  a  passionate  triumph  underlying  the  idealist's 
words  which  found  ample  reflection  in  the  dark  eyes  of  the 
keen-faced  secretary. 

The  Honorable  Harold  Heathcote,  a  younger  son  in  an 
old  English  family,  had  been  Ruxton's  secretary  from  the 
beginning  of  his  political  career ;  he  was  a  brilliant 
youngster  who  had  determined  upon  a  political  career  for 
himself,  and  had,  with  considerable  shrewdness,  pinned 
his  faith  to  the  banner  which,  from  the  beginning  of  his 
career,  Ruxton  Farlow  had  unfurled  for  himself.  These 
two  men  were  working  for  a  common  purpose. 

"  I  knew  it  would  come,  Mr.  Farlow,"  said  Heathcote 
with  cordial  enthusiasm.  "  And  there'll  be  more  to  follow, 
or  I  have  no  understanding  of  the  times.  I  am  glad. 
Very  glad." 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and 
Heathcote  rose  to  answer  it.  When  he  returned  he 
handed  two  telegrams  to  his  chief. 

"  Telegrams,"  he  said  laconically,  and  returned  to  his 
seat  and  to  his  tea. 

Ruxton  ran  a  paper  knife  through  the  envelopes.  The 
first  message  was  from  his  father.  It  was  brief,  cordial, 
but  urgent. 

"  Heartiest  congratulations.  Immensely  delighted. 
Must  see  you  at  once.  Inventor  turned  out  most  im- 
portant as  well  as  mysterious. — FARLOW." 


THE  MYSTERY  51 

Ruxton  read  the  message  over  two  or  three  times. 
Then  he  deliberately  tore  it  up  into  small  pieces  and 
dropped  it  in  the  waste-paper  basket. 

He  opened  the  second  message  with  a  preoccupied  air. 
He  was  thinking — thinking  deeply.  But  in  a  moment  all 
his  preoccupation  vanished  as  he  glanced  over  its  con- 
tents. He  hungrily  devoured  the  words  written  on  the 
tinted  paper. 

"Am  delighted  at  your  promotion.  I  anticipated  it. 
My  most  heartfelt  good  wishes.  Do  not  let  this  success 
make  you  forget  our  meeting.  Dare  I  hope  that  you 
may  find  your  way  to  1 7,  Streamside  Mansions,  Kensing- 
ton?— VITA  VLADIMIR." 

It  was  some  moments  before  Ruxton's  eyes  left  that 
message.  A  world  of  unsuspected  emotion  was  stirring 
within  him.  He  had  not  forgotten.  He  was  never  likely 
to  forget.  But  in  the  midst  of  his  emotion  some  freak  of 
mind  had  caught  and  held  the  significance  of  this  mysteri- 
ous creature's  congratulations.  How — how  had  she 
learned  of — his  promotion,  when  no  one  but  himself  and 
the  Prime  Minister  knew  of  it  ? 

Suddenly  he  bestirred  himself.  He  carefully  refolded 
Vita's  message,  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket.  Then  he 
turned  to  Heathcote. 

"  I  shall  have  to  go  to  Dorby  to-night.  My  father  wants 
me.  It  is  rather  important.  Fortunately  things  here  will 
not  require  me  just  now.  But  you  must  notify  me  of 
anything  important  happening.  Meanwhile  give  orders 
to  have  my  things  got  ready,  and  look  me  out  a  train.  I 
must  run  out  to  send  a  wire." 

14  Can't  I  send  it  for  you  ?  " 

"  No-o.     I  think  not,  thanks." 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.  CHARLES  SMITH 

A  PROFOUiND  silence  reigned  in  the  library  at  Dorby 
Towers. 

The  pungent  aroma  of  cigars  weighed  upon  the  atmos- 
phere in  spite  of  the  wide  proportions  of  the  apartment. 
Considerable  light  was  shed  from  the  antique  sconces 
upon  the  walls,  as  also  by  the  silver  candelabra  upon  the 
long  refectory  table  which  ran  down  the  centre  of  the 
room.  But  withal  it  was  powerless  to  dispel  the  dark 
suggestion  of  the  old  bookcases  which  lined  the  walls  of 
the  room. 

Two  men  were  occupying  one  side  of  the  table,  and 
Ruxton  Farlow  sat  alone  at  the  other.  The  eyes  of  all 
three  were  focussed  intently  upon  the  object  lying  upon 
the  table,  which  was  a  ten-foot  model  of  a  strange-looking 
water  craft. 

The  first  to  break  the  spell  of  the  burden  of  silence  was 
Sir  Andrew  Farlow,  who,  with  a  bearded  stranger,  oc- 
cupied the  side  of  the  table  opposite  his  son.  But  his  was 
no  attempt  at  speech.  He  merely  leant  forward  with  an 
elbow  on  the  polished  oak,  and  his  fingers  softly  stroking 
his  square  chin  and  tightly  compressed  lips.  He  was  hum- 
ming softly,  an  expression  of  an  intently  occupied  mind. 
The  fixity  of  his  gaze  suggested  a  desire  to  bore  a  way  to 
the  heart  of  the  secrets  the  strange  model  contained. 

The  bearded  stranger  was  watching  him  closely  while 


MR.  CHARLES  SMITH  53 

his  eyes  appeared  to  be  focussed  upon  the  object  of  inter- 
est, and  presently,  as  though  the  psychological  moment 
had  arrived,  he,  too,  leant  forward,  and,  with  an  arm 
stretched  out,  terminating  in  a  long,  lean,  tenacious-look- 
ing hand,  he  pressed  a  button  on  the  side  of  the  model. 
Instantly  the  whole  interior  of  it  was  lit  electrically,  and 
the  light  shone  through  a  series  of  exquisitely  finished 
glass-covered  port-holes  extending  down  the  vessel's 
entire  sides. 

He  spoke  no  word,  but  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  went 
on  smoking,  while  he  closely  watched  for  any  sign  of  im- 
pression which  the  two  interested  spectators  displayed. 

The  moments  slipped  by.  The  patient  stranger  sat  on 
with  his  long  lean  legs  crossed,  and  a  benevolent  smile 
in  his  large  eyes.  After  a  while  Ruxton  sat  back  in  his 
chair.  Then  Sir  Andrew  abandoned  his  inspection,  and 
turned  to  the  man  beside  him. 

It  seemed  to  be  the  cue  awaited,  for  the  stranger 
promptly  leant  forward  again  and  released  a  spring  by 
the  movement  of  a  switch.  Instantly  the  model  split  in 
half,  and,  opening  much  in  the  fashion  of  a  pea-pod,  dis- 
played the  longitudinal  sections  of  its  interior. 

Simultaneously  the  two  men  whose  lives  had  been 
hitherto  given  up  to  ship  construction  rose  to  their  feet, 
and  pored  over  the  wonderful  and  delicate  mechanism 
and  design  the  interior  revealed. 

Then  it  was  that  Sir  Andrew  verbally  broke  the  silence. 

"  Will  you  explain,  Mr.  Smith  ?  " 

The  inventor  removed  his  cigar. 

"You  know — marine  mechanism?"  he  enquired. 

Sir  Andrew  nodded. 

"  Yes,  unless  there  is  a  new  principle  here." 


54  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  It  is  the  perfected  submarine  principle  which  was  used 
towards  the  end  of  the  war.  There  is  no  fresh  detail  in 
that  direction." 

"  We  have  a  complete  knowledge  of  that  principle," 
said  Ruxton.  "  We  have  been  constructing  for  the  Ad- 
miralty throughout  the  war." 

"  Good." 

There  was  a  distinct  "  T "  at  the  end  of  the  word  as 
Mr.  Smith  spoke  it. 

Ruxton  shot  a  quick  glance  in  his  direction.  The 
man's  whole  personality  was  an  unusual  one.  He  was 
very  tall,  and  very  thin.  His  intellectual  head,  quite 
nobly  formed,  was  crowned  by  a  shock  of  snow-white 
hair  closely  hogged,  as  might  be  a  horse's  mane.  His 
features  were  almost  as  lean  as  his  body.  But  the  con- 
formation of  a  magnificent  forehead  and  the  gently 
luminous  eyes,  beneath  eyebrows  almost  as  bushy  as  a 
well-grown  moustache,  made  one  forget  the  fact.  Then, 
too,  the  carefully  groomed,  closely  cut  snow-white  beard 
and  moustache  helped  to  disguise  it  still  more.  It  was 
the  face  of  a  man  of  great  mentality  and  lofty  emotions,  a 
face  of  simplicity  and  kindliness.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  face 
which  demanded  a  second  scrutiny,  and  one  which  in- 
spired trust  and  liking. 

To  the  rest  must  be  added  certain  details  which  seemed 
a  trifle  extraordinary  in  view  of  his  profession.  If  his 
tailor  did  not  trade  in  Bond  Street  then  he  certainly  must 
have  served  his  apprenticeship  in  those  select  purlieus. 
Perfect  cut  and  excellence  of  material  marked  every  detail 
of  his  costume,  which  was  of  the  "  morning  "  order. 

"  Then  there  is  little  enough  to  explain,  except  for  the 
architectural  side  of  the  matter,"  Mr.  Smith  went  on,  with 


MR.  CHARLES  SMITH  55 

a  peculiarly  back-of-the-throat  tone  in  his  speech,  which 
also  possessed  a  shadow  of  foreign  accent.  "  I  am  not 
offering  you  a  submarine  principle.  That  is  established 
now  all  over  the  world.  I  please  to  call  my  invention  a 
submersible  merchantman.  You  will  observe  the  holds 
for  merchandise.  You  will  see  the  engine-rooms,"  he 
went  on,  rising  and  pointing  out  each  detail  as  he  enu- 
merated it.  "There  are  the  stateroom  decks,  with  the 
accompaniment  of  saloon  and  kitchens,  and  baths,  and — 
and  all  the  necessities  of  passenger  traffic.  Everything 
is  there  on  a  lesser  scale  such  as  you  will  find  on  a  surface 
liner.  Its  speed  and  engine  power  will  compare  favorably 
with  any  liner  afloat  up  to  ten  thousand  tons.  Thus  it 
has  the  speed  of  a  surface  craft  on  the  surface,  with  the 
added  advantages  of  a  submarine.  In  addition  to  these 
I  have  a  light,  in  the  course  of  production,  which  will 
serve  to  render  the  submarine  immune  from  the  dangers 
of  submersion.  I  call  it  the  '  U-rays.' ' 

"The  U-rays?  "  Ruxton's  enquiry  came  like  a  shot. 

"Just  so." 

Mr.  Smith  replied  quite  unhesitatingly,  and  Ruxton's 
obvious  suspicion  was  disarmed. 

"  This  vessel,"  the  inventor  went  on,  quite  undisturbed, 
"solves  the  last  problem  of  sea  traffic  under — all  con- 
ditions." 

The  light  of  enthusiasm  was  shining  in  the  man's 
luminous  eyes  as  he  made  his  final  pronouncement.  It 
was  as  though  the  thought  had  filled  him  with  a  profound 
hope  of  the  fulfillment  of  some  ardent  desire.  It  sug- 
gested to  the  more  imaginative  Ruxton  that  he  cared 
more  for  the  purpose  of  his  invention  than  for  its  com- 
mercial aspect  to  himself. 


56  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  You  speak,  of  course,  of — war,"  Ruxton  said. 

The  large  eyes  of  the  stranger  widened  with  horror  and 
passion. 

"  I  speak  of — international  murder  ! "  he  cried  fiercely. 

Sir  Andrew  turned  from  the  model  at  the  tone  of  the 
reply.  Ruxton  would  have  pursued  the  subject,  but  Mr. 
Smith  gave  him  no  opportunity. 

"Your  pardon,  gentlemen,"  he  said  with  a  sudden, 
exquisite  smile  of  childlike  simplicity.  "  Memories  are 
painful.  I  have  much  that  I  remember,  and — but  let  us 
keep  to  the  business  in  hand." 

"  Memories  are  painful  to  us  all — here  in  England," 
said  Ruxton  gently.  "  But — this  is  a  beautiful  model. 
Perfect  in  every  detail." 

"  It  was  made  in  my  own  shops,"  returned  the  inventor 
simply. 

"And  you  say  this,"  indicating  the  model,  "has  been 
tested  on  a  constructed  vessel  ?  " 

"  I  have  travelled  more  than  ten  thousand  miles  in  just 
such  a  vessel.  I  have  travelled  on  the  surface  at  twenty- 
four  knots,  and  under  the  surface  at  fifteen.  I  have  car- 
ried mixed  cargoes,  and  I  have  carried  certain  passen- 
gers. All  these  things  I  have  done  for  experiment,  so 
that  the  principle  should  be  perfected.  You  can  judge 
for  yourselves.  A  vessel  of  this  type  awaits  your  pleasure 
at  any  hour.  A  vessel  of  two  thousand  tons." 

"  Two  thousand  ? "  The  incredulous  ejaculation  es- 
caped Sir  Andrew  before  he  was  aware  of  it. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Smith,  turning  quickly. 
"  A  vessel  of  ten  thousand  tons  can  just  as  easily  be  con- 
structed." 

The  sweeping  assertion  spoken  with  so  simple  a  confi- 


MR.  CHARLES  SMITH  57 

dence  had  the  effect  of  silence  upon  his  audience.  It  was 
overwhelming  even  to  these  men  who  had  witnessed  the 
extraordinary  development  of  invention  during  the  war. 

After  awhile  Ruxton  broke  the  silence. 

"  In  your  original  communication  to  us  you  assured  us 
of  a  means  of  avoiding  the  losses  we  endured  during  the 
war  from  submarine  attack.  This  I  understand  is  the — 
means.  Will  you  point  its  uses  ?  I  see  it  in  my  own  way, 
but  I  should  like  to  hear  another  mind  on  the  subject." 

Mr.  Smith  folded  his  arms  and  settled  himself  in  his 
chair.  Ruxton  was  not  seeking  information  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  boat.  His  imagination  told  him  all  he  wanted 
to  know  in  that  direction.  It  was  the  man  he  wanted  to 
study.  It  was  the  man  he  was  not  certain  of.  He  was 
convinced  that  this  man  was  a  foreigner,  for  all  his  Brit- 
ish name.  He  desired  to  fathom  the  purpose  lying  be- 
hind this  stranger's  actions. 

"  A  great  Admiral  just  before  the  war,"  said  the  in- 
ventor, "  declared  that  the  future  of  naval  warfare  lay  un- 
der the  water,  and  not  on  the  surface,  as  we  have  always 
believed.  He  was  right.  But  he  did  not  go  as  far  as  he 
might  have  gone.  The  whole  future  of  shipping  lies  as 
much  under  water  as  on  the  surface.  I  tell  you,  gentle- 
men, that  this  boat,  here,  will  afford  untold  blessings  to 
humanity.  To  an  island  country  it  affords — existence. 
Think.  This  country,  Britain,  is  not  self-supporting.  Is 
it  not  so  ?  It  could  not  keep  its  people  alive  for  more 
than  months.  It  depends  upon  supplies  from  all  ends  of 
the  earth.  All  roads  upon  the  high  seas  lead  to  Britain. 
And  every  helpless  surface  vessel,  carrying  life  to  the 
island  people  at  home,  is  a  target  for  the  long-distance 
submarine.  If  an  enemy  possesses  a  great  fleet  of  sub- 


58  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

marines  he  does  not  need  to  declare  a  war  area  about 
these  shores.  Every  high  sea  is  a  war  area  where  he  can 
ply  his  wanton  trade.  With  the  submarine  as  perfect  as 
it  is  to-day,  Britain,  great  as  she  is  in  naval  armaments, 
can  never  face  another  war  successfully.  That  thought  is 
in  the  mind  of  all  men  already"  The  man  paused  de- 
liberately. Then  with  a  curious  foreign  gesture  of  the 
hands  he  went  on.  "  But  there  is  already  established  an 
axiom.  Submarine  cannot  fight  submarine — under  the 
surface."  He  shrugged.  "  It  is  so  simple.  How  can 
an  enemy  attack  my  submersible?  The  moment  a  sub- 
marine appears,  the  submersible  submerges  and  the 
enemy  is  helpless.  An  aerial  warship  will  become  a 
spectacle  for  the  amused  curiosity  to  the  ocean  traveller. 
In  peace  time  storms  will  have  small  enough  terror,  and 
on  the  calm  summer  seas  we  shall  speed  along  at  ever- 
increasing  mileage.  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  the  days  of 
wholly  surface  boats  are  gone.  The  days  of  clumsy 
blockades  are  over,  just  as  are  the  starvation  purposes  of 
contraband  of  war.  With  the  submersible  how  is  it  pos- 
sible to  prevent  imports  to  a  country  which  possesses  a 
seaboard  ?  That  is  the  proposition  I  put  to  the  world  in 
support  of  my  submersible." 

Father  and  son  sat  silently  listening  to  the  easy,  brief 
manner  of  the  man's  explanation.  Nor  was  it  till  he 
spoke  of  the  futility  of  a  war  submarine's  efforts  against 
his  submersible  did  any  note  of  passion  and  triumph  find 
its  way  into  the  man's  manner.  At  that  point,  however, 
a  definite  uplifting  made  itself  apparent.  His  triumph 
was  in  the  new  depth  vibrating  in  his  musical  voice. 
There  was  a  light  in  his  eyes  such  as  is  to  be  found  in 
the  triumphant  gaze  of  the  victor. 


MR.  CHARLES  SMITH  59 

Ruxton  beheld  these  things  with  greater  understand- 
ing than  his  father.  Moreover,  he  interpreted  them  with 
that  sympathetic  understanding  of  one  who  possesses 
great  ideals  of  his  own.  Whoever  this  man  might  be, 
wherever  he  came  from,  one  thing  was  beyond  all  ques- 
tion in  his  mind.  Here  was  no  mere  huckster  seeking  to 
trade  his  wares  for  the  sole  purpose  of  gain.  Gain  might 
be  his  object,  but  somehow  he  felt  that  it  was  not  wholly 
so,  not  even  paramount  in  his  consideration.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  the  man  had  spoken  the  truth  when  he  had 
said  that  his  efforts  were  directed  in  the  service  of  hu- 
manity. 

But  for  all  his  understanding  he  had  no  intention  of  ac- 
cepting his  own  reading  without  proof  from  the  only 
direction  in  which  proof  could  come. 

"  And  what  is  the  commercial  aspect  of  the  matter — 
between  us?"  he  enquired  in  his  most  businesslike  tone. 

Mr.  Smith  looked  up  in  a  startled  way  from  the  deep 
reverie  into  which  his  own  words  had  plunged  him. 

"  Commercial  ?  "  he  echoed  a  little  helplessly. 

"  Yes."     Ruxton  smiled.     "  The— price." 

Mr.  Smith  nodded  readily  and  smiled  back.  But  his 
reply  carried  no  conviction. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "  I  was  thinking.  Of 
course — yes.  The  price." 

His  infantile  manner  brought  a  smile  to  the  shrewd  face 
of  Sir  Andrew.  Ruxton  only  waited. 

"  I — had  forgotten,"  Mr.  Smith  went  on.  Then,  with 
his  curious  tenacious  hands  clasped  about  one  knee,  a 
hopeless  sort  of  distress  slowly  filled  his  eyes.  "  It — it  is 
difficult,"  he  stumbled.  Then  quite  suddenly  a  world  of 
relief  seemed  to  come  to  him.  "  Would  it  not  be  better 


60  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

to  leave  terms  until  you  have  seen,  and  proved  for  your- 
selves, of  what  my  constructed  vessel  is  capable  ?  You 
see,  any  price  I  could  name  now  would  sound — er — ex- 
cessive." 

The  manner  of  this  strange  creature  was  so  delightfully 
naive  that  even  the  keen  Yorkshire  features  of  Sir  Andrew 
were  reduced  to  a  smile  of  enjoyment. 

"  That's  the  way  I  like  to  hear  an  inventor  talk,  Mr. 
Smith,"  he  cried  heartily.  "  Most  of  'em  want  large  sums 
in  options  on  the  bare  model  and  registered  patents.  If 
your  invention — the  constructed  vessel  is  capable  of  what 
you  claim  for  it,  it  is  worth — millions." 

But  the  millionaire's  encouragement  seemed  to  have  an 
adverse  effect  upon  the  inventor.  Trouble  crept  again  into 
his  eyes,  and  he  passed  one  thin  hand  across  his  splendid 
forehead. 

"  If  it  serves  to  save  innocent  lives  in  the  future,  sir,  it 
has  done  all  that  I  ask  of  it,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Its  value 
to  me  then  could  never  be  reckoned  in  millions.  There 
would  not  be  enough  cyphers  in  the  mind  of  man  to  ex- 
press that  value." 

To  Ruxton  the  riddle  of  this  man  was  growing  in 
obscurity.  For  all  his  understanding  Mr.  Smith's  atti- 
tude demanded  explanation  which  as  yet  he  was  unable 
to  give  it. 

But  something  in  the  nature  of  solution  to  the  riddle 
was  nearer  than  he  had  supposed.  It  came  in  the  man's 
words  which  were  added  in  further  reply  to  his  father. 

"  I  have  no  fear  but  my  invention  will  do  these  things," 
he  said  with  strong  conviction.  "  But,"  he  added  almost 
sombrely,  "  I  have  other  fears." 

"  Others  ?  " 


MR.  CHARLES  SMITH  61 

The  commercial  mind  of  Sir  Andrew  was  sharply 
suspicious. 

"  Yes." 

Again  came  that  troubled  movement  of  the  hand  across 
the  forehead.  The  man  hesitated  in  a  painful,  embar- 
rassed way.  Then,  with  a  perfectly  helpless  gesture,  he 
blurted  out  something  of  that  which  Ruxton  had  been 
waiting  for. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  cried,  his  eyes  full  of  a  passionate  light. 
"  I  have  fears,  other  fears.  Nor  are  they  idle.  Nor  are 
they  to  be  belittled.  I  came  here  in  secret.  No  one  but 
my  two  confidential  men,  who  brought  this  model,  know 
of  my  coming.  No  one  knows  my  whereabouts  at  all, 
but  you,  and  those  two  men  whom  I  can  trust — even 
with  my  life.  Fears.  My  God,  if  you  only  knew.  I 
tell  you  there  are  people  in  the  world,  if  they  knew  of 
my  visit  to  you,  if  they  saw  that  model  lying  on  your 
table,  who  would  not  rest  until  my  life  was  forfeited,  and 
the  utility  of  my  invention  to  this  country  was  destroyed 
forever." 

The  man  stood  up.  His  great  height  was  drawn  up  to 
its  uttermost.  He  was  breathing  hard,  but  the  light  in 
his  eyes  was  not  of  the  fear  of  which  he  spoke.  They  were 
burning  with  a  strained  defiance  of  that  threat  he  knew  to 
be  hanging  over  him. 

The  others  rose  from  their  chairs  simultaneously.  Both 
were  startled.  But  Sir  Andrew  far  more  than  his  son. 
Startlingly  as  the  revelation  had  come,  to  Ruxton  it  was 
revelation.  And  now  it  was  he  who  took  the  initiative. 
He  leant  across  the  table. 

"  I  think  I  understand  something  that  has  been  puzzling 
me  all  the  evening,  Mr. — Smith,"  he  said.  "  And  now 


62  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

that  I  understand  it  I  am  satisfied.  You  have  come  to  us 
to-day  at  great  danger  to  yourself.  You  are  risking 
everything  in  the  world  that  we  shall  have  the  benefit  of 
your  invention.  The  last  thought  in  your  mind  is  the 
commercial  aspect  of  this  affair.  Your  real  object  in  com- 
ing is  your  secret  for  the  present.  I  might  even  hazard  a 
guess  at  it.  But  it  is  your  secret,  and  one  we  have  no 
desire  to  probe.  You  desire  a  pledge  from  us.  That  is 
obvious.  And  for  myself  I  give  it  freely.  Your  secret  is 
safe  with  me — safe  as  the  grave.  I  shall  avail  myself  of 
your  offer  of  a  trip  in  your  submersible,  and,  if  you  will 
permit  me,  I  shall  make  my  own  time  for  it  in  the  near 
future.  Will  you  allow  me  that  privilege  ?  " 

The  inventor  impulsively  held  out  his  hand,  and  his 
relief  was  obvious  and  intense.  It  was  almost  as  if  he  had 
feared  the  result  of  his  revelation. 

"  Your  wishes  are  entirely  mine,"  he  said,  as  Ruxton 
wrung  his  hand.  "  It  was  this  necessity  for  secrecy 
which  has  troubled  me.  I  did  not  think  you  would  accept 
it.  And — I  feared  the  shattering  of  all  my  hopes."  He 
turned  to  Sir  Andrew,  who  stood  watching  the  scene 
wonderingly. 

"And  you,  sir?"  he  asked,  with  extended  hand. 
"  Have  I  your  word  ?  " 

"  Absolutely,  sir." 

The  bluff  tone,  and  the  grip  of  the  Yorkshire  hand, 
had  its  prompt  effect. 

"  I  need  no  more." 

The  man  proceeded  to  close  up  his  model. 

"  And  for  communicating  with  you  ? "  demanded 
Ruxton. 

Mr.  Smith  looked  up. 


MR.  CHARLES  SMITH  63 

"  The  same  address.  Veevee,  London.  It  will  always 
find  me." 

"  Thank  you." 

Two  hours  later  Ruxton  and  his  father  were  alone  in 
the  library.  The  inventor  had  gone,  and  his  precious 
model  had  been  carefully  removed  by  the  two  men  who 
had  conveyed  it  to  Dorby  Towers.  For  those  two  hours 
Sir  Andrew  and  his  son  had  thrashed  threadbare  the 
situation  created  by  the  stranger's  coming.  And,  incredi- 
ble as  it  seemed,  in  the  minds  of  both  men  was  a  steady 
conviction  that  the  work  of  that  evening  was  to  mark  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  their  country. 

The  possibilities  were  of  a  staggering  nature.  Neither 
could  probe  the  future  under  this  new  aspect.  If  this  new 

principle  of  ocean  traffic  were  to But  it  was  "  if." 

If  the  man  were  honest.  If  the  invention  were  right.  If 
— if,  and  again — if.  That  was  it.  And  so  they  had  talked 
it  out. 

Now  it  was  time  to  seek  that  rest  which  Ruxton 
sorely  needed.  His  had  been  a  strenuous  day,  and  he 
knew  he  must  return  to  town  to-morrow.  He  rose  and 
stretched  himself. 

"  Well,  Dad,  it's  bed  for  me,"  he  said,  in  the  midst  of  a 
yawn. 

His  father  looked  up  from  his  final  cigar,  which  was 
poised  in  his  hand. 

"  Yes.  You  must  be  tired,  boy.  There's  one  thing, 
though,  about  that  man,  that's  occurred  to  me,"  he 
added,  his  mind  still  dwelling  on  the  subject  of  their  long 
discussion.  "  Did  you  notice  his  speech  ?  He  didn't 
sound  to  me  English,  and  yet  there — was  no  real  accent." 


64  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Ruxton  laughed. 

"  I  wondered  if  that  had  escaped  you."  Then  his  eyes 
grew  serious.  "  No,  he  isn't  an  Englishman.  He  isn't 
even  Dutch.  That  I  am  sure  of.  But  his  nationality — 
no,  I  cannot  say." 

"  No.     It's  a  difficult  matter  with  these  foreigners." 

"  Yes.  But  if  I  can't  locate  his  nationality  I  am  certain 
of  a  very  important  fact." 

"And  that  is?" 

"  He  belongs  to — Germany." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  LURE 

THAT  Ruxton  Farlow  was  a  creature  of  destiny  rather 
than  a  man  who  wrought  only  through  the  force  of  his 
own  self-guidance  was  extraordinarily  apparent.  The 
purpose  of  his  life  filled  his  whole  being.  It  was  all 
of  him,  a  dim  light  in  the  mist  and  fog  of  the  future,  ever 
encouraging  onwards,  yet  yielding  to  him  no  vision  of 
the  path  by  which  it  might  be  the  more  easily  reached. 
It  was  his  lot  to  flounder  on,  frequently  stumbling  and 
yawning  as  the  conformation  and  obscurities  of  the  road 
compelled,  but  every  step,  every  stumble,  every  bruise 
and  buffet,  added  to  the  sum  of  progress  achieved  and 
pointed  the  unyielding  nature  which  inspired  his  set  pur- 
pose of  reaching  that  ray  of  light  beyond. 

The  coming  into  his  life  of  the  woman  who  called  her- 
self Vita  Vladimir  was  an  incident  in  his  progress  of  far 
greater  significance  that  even  he  had  dreamed.  Whither 
it  inclined  his  footsteps  he  knew  not.  All  he  knew  was 
that,  almost  in  a  moment,  she  had  become  definitely 
linked  up  with  his  future  through  a  bond,  the  meaning  of 
which  even  he  had  no  full  understanding  of.  All  he 
knew  was  that  she  had  some  great  bearing  upon  the 
ultimate,  and  that  it  was  his  desire  to  follow  blindly  the 
track  she  had  opened  up  before  him. 

Nor  had  he  any  delusion  as  to  his  desire.  There  was 
not  the  smallest  doubt  but  that  her  attraction  had  in  flu- 


66  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

enced  his  decision.  He  had  listened  to  her  words  with  a 
brain  inspired  by  the  warmth  of  the  manhood  within  him, 
which  her  extraordinary  beauty  had  stirred  as  it  had 
never  been  stirred  before. 

It  was  in  answer  to  this  feeling  that  he  left  Yorkshire 
at  the  earliest  opportunity,  and  hastened  back  to  town. 
He  merely  gave  himself  time  to  change  and  hold  a  brief 
consultation  with  his  secretary.  Then  he  set  out  in  search 
of  the  rather  obscure  little  flat  in  Kensington. 

His  mind  was  perfectly  clear  as  to  the  object  of  this 
visit.  Just  as  he  perfectly  understood  that  even  without 
that  object  it  would  have  been  his  desire  to  make  it.  He 
wished  to  give  this  woman  an  answer  to  her  request. 
He  wished  to  fathom  the  manner  by  which  she  had 
learned  of  his  promotion.  And,  apart  from  these  things, 
he  desired  ardently  to  see  her  again.  The  recollection  of 
that  moonlit  figure  was  a  sharp  negative  on  the  photo- 
graphic plates  of  memory,  and  he  was  anxious  to  study 
the  original  in  the  full  light  of  day.  Her  undoubted 
beauty,  and  the  romance  of  their  first  meeting,  had  left 
behind  them  an  irresistible  attraction ;  nor  had  he  any 
desire  to  resist  it. 

His  position  in  the  world  as  the  only  son  and  partner 
of  the  greatest  among  the  ship-owners  of  Britain,  his 
political  career,  and  his  position  as  under-secretary  in  the 
Foreign  Office  of  the  late  Ministry,  had  brought  him  into 
contact  with  the  social  world  of  London.  But,  hitherto, 
women  had  had  small  enough  place  in  his  life.  The 
hunting-field  and  the  coverts,  with  golf  and  rowing,  had 
entirely  claimed  his  leisure,  which  would  have  been  con- 
sidered something  very  like  wasted  had  it  been  spent  in 
Society's  drawing-rooms.  He  was  a  big,  strong,  outdoor 


THE  LURE  67 

man,  and  possessed  a  great  deal  of  that  curious  diffidence 
which  is  more  apt  to  attack  men  of  his  bulk  than  those  of 
lesser  stature. 

All  these  things  had  served  to  make  him  difficult  as  a 
prize  worth  striving  for  in  the  matrimonial  market,  and, 
doubtless,  he  had  been  thus  saved  to  the  work  which  he 
believed  lay  before  him.  He  had  never  been  a  man  of 
marked  celibate  tendencies.  It  was  simply  the  fact  that 
the  sex  question  had  always  been  dominated  by  the 
simple,  hard-working,  outdoor  life  he  lived.  Those  who 
knew  him  had  always  taken  a  delight  in  prophesying 
that  one  day  some  woman  would  get  hold  of  him,  he 
would  get  it  badly,  and  it  would  be  a  thousand  to  one 
chance  she  would  be  the  wrong  woman,  and  he  would 
make  a  complete  mess  of  things. 

Now  as  he  sat,  filling  to  overflowing  a  small  drawing- 
room  chair,  in  Vita  Vladimir's  flat  in  Kensington,  listening 
to  the  musical  tones  of  the  wonderful  Polish  beauty  facing 
him  on  a  wholly  inefficient  window  seat,  with  his  dark 
eyes,  shining  and  intent,  fixed  upon  her  mobile  features, 
it  looked  as  though  at  least  one  part  of  his  friends' 
prophecy  was  within  measurable  distance  of  being  ful- 
filled. 

The  woman  was  talking  rapidly,  and  the  light  and 
shade  of  emotion  passing  over  her  expressive  face  were 
quite  irresistible. 

"  Your  coming  was  more  than  I  dared  to  hope,"  she 
said.  "And  yet — I  knew  you  would.  I  mean  under- 
neath my  fears.  You  know  I  feel  I  ought  to  tell  you  so 
many  things  that  I  have  purposely  hidden,  and  yet  I 
know  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  do  so  until — I  have  shown 
you  all  that  which  I  promised.  It  makes  me  feel  mean. 


68  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

It  makes  me  feel  almost  as  if  I  were  not  acting  honestly. 
And  yet  I  know  I  am.  But  I  think  I  can  tell  you  one 
thing  which  may  astonish  you.  Our  meeting  on  the 
cliffs  was  the  result  of  nearly  two  months'  preparation 
and  consideration.  It  was  even  in  the  nature  of  a  plot, 
in  which  I  was  to  be  the  instrument  of  communication. 
Furthermore  it  took  me  nearly  two  weeks  of  waiting  and 
watching  before  I  could  decide  that  the  right  moment 
had  arrived.  You  see,  so  secretly  had  we  to  move  that 
I  dared  not  chance  a  thing.  The  risk  for  all  concerned 
was  so  great.  Mr.  Farlow,  will  you  believe  me  when  I 
say  that  yours  is  not  the  only  life  at  stake  in  this  adven- 
ture ?  Even  now  I  dare  not  give  you  the  details.  You 
must  still  take  me  on  trust,  as  you  were  kind  enough  to 
do— that  night." 

Ruxton  nodded  soberly,  though  his  eyes  were  feasting 
upon  the  woman's  superlative  beauty  as  she  reclined 
against  the  window  casing  in  an  all  unconscious  pose  of 
considerable  grace. 

"  I  think  I  understand  better  than  you  imagine  since 
I  have  seen — Mr.  Charles  Smith  and  his  invention." 

The  woman's  deeply-fringed  grey  eyes  were  widely  alert. 

"  You  have — associated  us  ?  " 

"Veevee,  London." 

The  woman  nodded.     There  was  no  attempt  at  denial. 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  and  the  grey  eyes  became  inter- 
estedly speculative. 

Ruxton  glanced  about  him.  He  was  swiftly  taking  in 
the  details  of  the  plainly  furnished,  extremely  modern 
little  drawing-room.  It  was  the  preliminary  to  the  next 
step  in  this  strange  adventure.  He  saw  about  him  no 
single  suggestion  of  the  personality  of  the  woman  who 


THE  LURE  69 

claimed  it  as  her  home.  It  might  have  belonged  to  any- 
body, from  a  superior  business  woman,  who  used  it  as  a 
nightly  refuge  from  the  cares  and  worries  of  a  commer- 
cial life,  to  a  foreign  visitor  to  London,  desiring  a  con- 
venient headquarters.  It  was  to  his  mind  a  typical 
41  furnished  flat "  as  designated  in  the  house  agent's 
catalogue. 

His  eyes  came  back  to  the  woman  herself,  and  a  deep, 
restrained  admiration  grew  in  their  depths. 

All  that  he  had  believed  of  her  in  the  deceptive  moon- 
light was  more  than  confirmed  in  the  warm  light  of  day. 
He  had  no  thought  for  her  costume.  In  his  man's  way 
he  realized  a  perfect  harmony  between  that  and  the 
wonderful  face  and  head  that  adorned  it.  He  was  aware 
only  of  the  deep  sleepy  grey  eyes  so  exquisitely  fringed. 
The  smooth,  delicately  tinted  cheeks,  and  the  mouth  so 
ripe  and  full  of  the  suggestion  of  youth.  Above  all  was 
that  wonderful  glory  of  red-gold  hair  massed  on  the  head 
with  all  the  art  of  the  hair-dresser,  which  transformed  it 
into  a  crown  which  any  queen  might  well  have  envied. 

"  I  want  to  say  something  that  may  sound  rough,  even 
brutal,"  Ruxton  said  abruptly  after  the  prolonged  pause. 
"  But  then  there  are  times  in  life  when  the  suaveness  of 
diplomatic  methods  becomes  wholly  misplaced — even  an 
insult  to  the  person  towards  whom  they  are  directed. 
You  will  permit  me  to  assure  you  that  what  I  have  to 
say  is  the  outcome  of  the  interest  you  have  roused  in  me 
by  all  you  have  confided."  He  paused  again  thought- 
fully. He  was  endeavoring  to  shut  out  of  his  mind  the 
picture  of  the  woman's  personality  which  made  what  he 
was  about  to  say  seem  so  harsh  and  unnecessary.  He 
nerved  himself  for  the  effort  and  proceeded. 


70  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Let  me  say  at  once,  that  against  all  my — what  shall 
I  say — better  sense?  That  will  do.  Against  all  my 
better  sense  I  accepted  and  believed  your  story  to  me  on 
the  cliffs.  Had  I  acted  as  my  sense  prompted  I  should 
have  thrust  it  aside  and  ignored  it,  regarding  you  merely 
as  one  of  my  country's  enemies,  seeking,  for  some  inex- 
plicable reason,  to  leave  me  at  the  mercy  of  your  con- 
federates. 

"  However,  for  once  instinct  served  me  well.  I  com- 
mitted no  such  injustice.  Then  on  my  return  home  I 
discovered  a  link,  as  I  thought,  between  you  and  another 
matter  which  has  since  proved  to  be  of  considerable  im- 
portance. I  refer  to  Veevee,  London.  That  link  you  do 
not  deny.  The  combination  suggests  more  fully  the  im- 
portance and  truth  of  what  you  told  me." 

"  The  combination  of  the  two  things  was  part  of  the 
— preparation." 

Vita  Vladimir  smiled.  Her  smile  was  like  a  sunbeam 
of  early  morning,  and  Ruxton  was  compelled  to  respond. 

"  That  is  how  I  now  supposed.  You  must  forgive  me 
for  what  else  I  have  to  say.  The  natural  result  of  a 
mind  left  groping  is  the  dominance  of  imagination. 
'  Fact '  is  the  only  thing  which  can  pin  imagination 
down.  At  the  present  moment  I  am  lacking  in  facts. 
I  have  only  been  told,  and  so  my  imagination  has  been 
turned  loose.  The  result  has  been  one  or  two  things 
which  I  am  going  to  put  to  you,  and  you  can  answer 
them  or  not.  But  my  future  action  will  be  undoubtedly 
governed  by  your  attitude.  First,  then,  this  is  not  your 
actual  home.  Second,  your  name  is  not  Vita  Vladimir. 
Third,  you  were  kind  enough  to  send  me  congratulation 
on  my  promotion  to  Cabinet  rank  when  only  the  Prime 


THE  LURE  71 

Minister,  and  his  most  intimate  colleagues,  were  aware 
of  it.  Even  the  ubiquitous  press  had  failed  to  steal  the 
information." 

Ruxton's  challenge  came  as  it  was  intended  to  come, 
shortly,  sharply,  even  with  a  suggestion  of  brutality  in  it. 
He  had  outraged  his  own  feelings  in  doing  so.  He  knew 
in  his  heart  he  had  no  doubt  of  this  wonderful  creature, 
but  his  mind,  that  simple,  keen,  straightforward  organ, 
trained  in  the  hypocritical  world  of  diplomacy,  dictated 
its  will  upon  him.  He  had  been  asked  to  believe  some- 
thing very  like  a  fairy-tale,  and  the  lips  which  had  formu- 
lated the  request  were  the  most  perfect  it  had  ever  been 
his  lot  to  behold.  However,  the  dictates  of  his  heart,  the 
warm  young  manhood  in  him  were  still  subservient  to  the 
trained  mind.  The  day  might  come  when  rebellion  would 
overthrow  such  sway,  but,  for  the  moment,  it  held. 

The  woman  took  no  umbrage.  There  was  a  quicken- 
ing of  the  rise  and  fall  of  her  beautifully  rounded  bosom, 
but  that  was  the  only  sign  of  emotion  permitted  to  escape 
her. 

"  Your  observation  is — quick,"  she  said,  with  a  slightly 
heightened  color.  "  And  what  if  these  things  are — true  ? 
Are  they  so  very  significant?" 

Ruxton  shrugged.  Something  of  the  warmth  had 
passed  out  of  his  eyes.  But  he  displayed  not  the  small- 
est impatience. 

Then  the  woman  smiled.  Her  smile  grew  into  a  deep 
musical  laugh. 

"  I  am  foolish.  I  am  not  clever  enough  for  the  work 
entrusted  to  me,"  she  cried,  spreading  out  her  hands  in  a 
deprecating  manner.  "  Here  am  I  striving  to  win  your 
perfect  confidence  by  methods  which  might  well  charac- 


72  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

terize  the  most  absurdly  cumbersome  and  blundering 
child.  I  am  deputed  to  urge  you  to  an  enterprise  that 
entails  risks — untold ;  maybe  I  am  striving  to  send  you 
to  your — death.  And  this  work  is  vital  to  the  world,  and, 
more  than  all,  to  your  country.  We  are  both  striving  in 
the  cause  of  humanity,  partners  bound  by  no  other  tie, 
and  yet  in  my  endeavor  I  am  raising  doubt  in  your  mind. 
Doubt  of  me,  doubt  of  my  purpose,  even  doubt  of  my 
honor.  That  is  so  like  a  woman — isn't  it  ?  " 

The  smile  which  the  self-denunciation  raised  upon  the 
man's  face  no  longer  lacked  warmth. 

"The  clever  knave  is  rarely  at  a  loss  for  explanation," 
he  said  drily.  "  The  lack  of  explanation  often  carries 
conviction." 

The  woman's  slumberous  eyes  only  smiled  the  more 
deeply. 

"  I  have  explanations  for  all  these  things,  and  I  would 
give  them,"  she  said  promptly.  "  And  those  explanations 
might  astonish  you — a  little.  But  at  present  I  have  only 
admission  to  make,  which  may  have  a  disastrous  effect 
upon  my  hopes.  This  is  not  my  home.  It  is  only  a  sort 
of — office.  My  name  is  not  Vita  Vladimir,  except  in  part. 
And  as  for  my  wire  to  you,  the  moment  the  personnel  of 
the  new  Cabinet  was  decided  upon  by  Sir  Meeston  Hnr- 
borough  and  his  colleagues,  the  news  was  conveyed  by  the 
usual  underground  methods — abroad.  That  is  all." 

"And  you  are  in  touch  with — abroad?" 

"  It  is  quite  simple,"  the  woman  went  on,  with  a  shrug. 
"  No  political  movement,  no  movement  of  any  significance 
goes  on  here  but  it  is  known  in  foreign  official  circles 
even  before  the  press  get  it  here.  Remember  the  war. 
My  father,  who  is  interested  in  this  matter  I  am  engaged 


THE  LURE  73 

upon,  is  in  touch  with  those  official  circles,  and  so  I  re- 
ceived the  news  within  a  few  hours  of  the  time  Sir  Mees- 
ton  knew  it  himself." 

The  interest  of  this  woman  was  very  great.  Its  influ- 
ence was  growing  on  the  man  even  more  quickly  than  he 
knew.  Her  ready  admission,  her  obviously  true  explana- 
tion of  how  she  received  the  news  which  inspired  her 
message  of  congratulation,  these  things  had  immediate 
effect.  To  a  lesser  mind  than  that  of  this  youthful  states- 
man, these  things  might  well  have  inspired  added  doubt, 
but  to  Ruxton  they  told  him  all  he  wanted  to  know  with 
definite  assurance.  He  was  convinced  of  her  absolute 
sincerity,  as  he  was  convinced  of — other  things. 

The  woman  was  waiting  anxiously  for  the  attitude 
which  was  to  follow  her  explanations.  Her  anxiety  did 
not  display  itself  in  her  eyes,  which  were  as  calm  as 
though  matters  of  vital  importance  were  beyond  even  her 
appreciation.  Nevertheless,  her  blood  was  tingling  with 
an  apprehension  which  left  the  silence  which  had  fallen 
almost  insupportable. 

But  Ruxton  was  thinking  swiftly.  For  the  moment  all 
thought  of  the  woman  herself  had  been  brushed  aside. 
He  was  gazing  at  that  dim  misty  light  ahead,  which  was 
his  goal,  and  he  seemed  to  see  the  shadowy  obstacles 
looming  up  which  perhaps  meant  a  life  and  death  strug- 
gle in  their  surmounting.  There  was  no  pathway  to  the 
right  or  left.  He  must  go  on.  It  was  the  only  road,  a 
dangerous,  deadly  road,  and  it  was  the  road  this  woman 
had  offered  him.  He  had  probed  deeply,  far  deeper  than 
had  seemed  possible  at  first,  and  his  probing  had  helped 
him  to  his  decision. 

He  rose  from  his  seat  and  stood  towering  and  large  in 


74  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

that  small  room.  The  sleepy  eyes  of  the  woman  were 
raised  expectantly  to  his  face,  and,  deep  down  in  their 
depths,  a  light  of  admiration,  which  had  only  his 
manhood  for  its  object,  was  growing  with  each  passing 
moment.  She  too  rose  from  her  seat  at  the  window,  and 
they  stood  facing  each  other  perfect  in  their  splendid 
youth. 

"Well?" 

The  woman  could  no  longer  restrain  her  impatience. 
Her  interrogation  broke  from  her  almost  unconsciously. 

"  I  came  here  to — accept  your  invitation  to  visit  that — 
to  see  those  things  first  hand,  which  is  the  duty  of  our 
country's  political  leaders,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  which 
thrilled  the  expectant  woman. 

"  And  you  will — accept?" 

Ruxton  nodded.  His  fine  head,  with  its  fair  hair,  was 
inclined  in  acquiescence. 

"  Thank  God  1 " 

The  woman's  exclamation  was  one  of  unrestrained 
thankfulness  and  relief.  Had  Ruxton  needed  any  added 
proof  of  her  honesty  and  sincerity,  it  was  in  that  wonder- 
ful expression  of  fervid  thankfulness  which  accompanied 
her  words.  But  he  had  needed  none,  and  it  was  the  result 
of  a  coalition  of  heart  and  brain. 

"  I  shall  communicate  with  your  father  and  appoint  a 
time  when  I  can  start  with  him — on  his  submersible." 

The  woman's-eyes  were  wide. 

"  My  father  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Surely— Mr.  Charles  Smith." 

The  laugh  which  followed  Ruxton's  announcement  was 
full  of  delighted  admiration. 

"  And  we  took  so  much  trouble.     We  planned  so  care- 


THE  LURE  75 

fully.  We  came  to  you  because  we  believed  you  to  be 
the  only  man  approachable  on  such  a  subject.  We  did 
not  realize  we  were  approaching  an  intellect  capable 
of  fathoming  and  turning  inside  out  our  closely  kept 
secrets." 

"  Intellect  ?  "  Ruxton  laughed  as  he  held  out  his  hand 
in  "  good-bye."  "  It  is  not  necessarily  intellect  which 
recognizes  strong  family  likenesses.  But  I  regret  to  say 
that  your  father,  brilliant  as  he  may  be  as  an  inventor, 
does  not  do  you  justice  in  the  matter  of  his  personal  ap- 
pearance. However,  I  shall  send  him  a  message  ad- 
dressed Veevee,  London,  which  you  will  doubtless  see, 
and  I  pray  that  Providence  may  bless  our  feeble  efforts. 
From  all  I  can  imagine  the  immediate  future  will  contain 
many  uncertainties  for  me,  so  I  do  not  know  if  we  shall 
ever  meet  again.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  that  I  thank  you 
from  the  bottom  of  my  heart  for  coming  to  me.  If  things 
are  as  bad  as  you  think,  then  you  have  done  our  country 
an  inestimable  service — you  and  your  father." 

But  his  words  had  a  different  effect  from  that  which 
might  have  been  expected.  A  shudder  of  pain  seemed 
suddenly  to  affect  the  woman  and  a  great  distress  shad- 
owed her  beautiful  eyes. 

"  Please  don't,"  she  cried.  "  If  you  knew  all  that  is  in 
here,"  she  went  on,  pressing  her  hands  upon  her  bosom, 
"  you  would  understand  all  this  thing  means.  Mr. 
Farlow,  you  have  never  felt  terror  as  a  woman  can  feel 
it.  How  could  you?  You,  a  man,  so  big,  and  strong, 
and  fearless.  Even  your  imagination,  riot  as  it  may, 
could  never  know  the  haunt  which  the  sinking  of  the 
Lusitania  has  created  in  my  woman's  mind.  Those  poor 
helpless  souls.  Think  of  them,  and  think  of  some  future, 


76  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

distant  day  when Oh,  God  !  No,  no !  The  serv- 
ice you  speak  of  is  no  service.  It  is — Duty." 

Ruxton  was  deeply  affected  by  the  evident  sincerity  of 
her  distress.  He  had  nothing  to  add.  But  Vita  VJadimir 
brushed  her  moment  of  weakness  aside,  and  gazed  up  at 
him  with  luminous,  searching  eyes. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten,"  she  cried.  "  I  am  afraid  I 
am  but  a  poor  plotter.  The  delight  that  you  have  ac- 
cepted has  put  so  much  out  of  my  poor  brain."  Then 
her  eyes  grew  wide  with  awe  and  dread.  "I  told  you 
that  other  lives  than  yours  hang  upon  this  matter.  So — 
it  is  necessary  for  inviolable  secrecy.  Need  you  tell  even 
your — father  of  your  going  ?  Need  any  one  know  ? 
Your  servants?  Any  one  at  all?  It  is  a  big  thing  to 

ask,  but — life  is  very  dear  to  us  all,  and No,  no, 

what  am  I  talking  about  ?  I  must  not  beg.  I  must  de- 
mand. For  as  sure  as  the  sun  rises  to-morrow  you  will 
be  silenced  forever  if  word  of  this  leaks  out.  We  shall 
all  be." 

The  woman's  manner  was  far  more  impressive  than  her 
words.  But  Ruxton  treated  the  matter  almost  lightly. 

"  Don't  worry.  I  have  given  my  promise  to  go.  I 
am  wilfully  thrusting  my  neck  into  the  noose  waiting 
for  it.  I  shall  not  take  unnecessary  chances.  No  one, 
not  even  my  father,  shall  hear  of  this  thing  from  me.  So 
— good-bye  until  I  return  from — Germany." 

Vita's  relief  found  expression  in  a  grave  sort  of  smile. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said  quietly.  "  But — but  you  are 
not  going  to — Germany." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE   OLD   MILL  COVE 

HE  had  known  the  mill  all  his  life  ;  at  least  he  believed 
he  had.  He  had  gazed  upon  that  awesome  black  ruin, 
keeping  watch  and  ward  over  the  wicked  little  cove  be- 
low it,  like  some  sentinel  on  guard  over  a  dangerous 
criminal,  with  wide,  childish  eyes,  and  a  mind  full  of  ter- 
rified speculation.  He  had  known  it  later,  when,  with 
boyish  bravado,  he  had  flouted  the  horrific  stories  of  a 
superstitious  countryside,  and  explored  its  barren,  ruined 
recesses.  He  had  known  it  still  later,  when,  with  man- 
hood's eyes  opening  to  a  dim  appreciation  of  all  those 
things  which  have  gone  before  in  the  great  effort  of  life, 
he  had  seen  in  it  a  picturesque  example  of  the  endless 
struggle  which  has  gone  on  since  the  dawn  of  life. 

So  he  thought  he  knew  it  all. 

Now  the  limitations  of  his  knowledge  were  forcing 
themselves  upon  him.  Now  he  was  realizing  that  there 
were  secrets  by  the  score  in  those  every-day  things  which 
a  lifetime  of  contact  may  never  reveal.  The  strangeness 
of  it  all  set  him  marvelling.  The  limitations  of  human 
understanding  seemed  extraordinarily  narrow. 

He  gazed  down  into  the  gaping  cavity  beneath  his 
feet,  and,  by  the  dim  rays  of  a  lighted  lantern,  counted 
the  worn  stone  steps  until  the  darkness  below  swallowed 
up  their  outline. 

Ruxton   Farlow  straightened  himself  up  and  glanced 


78  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

about  him  at  the  bare  stone  walls,  from  the  joints  of 
which  the  cement  had  long  since  fallen.  He  looked  up 
at  the  worm-eaten,  oaken  rafters  which  had  stood  the 
wear  of  centuries.  The  flooring  which  they  supported 
had  long  since  fallen  into  decay,  and  he  only  wondered 
how  much  longer  those  sturdy  oaken  beams  would  con- 
tinue to  support  the  colossal  weight  of  the  millstones  now 
resting  from  their  grinding  labors. 

Through  the  rents  which  time  and  weather  had  wrought 
he  saw  the  warm  glow  of  daylight  above,  for  all  was 
ruin  in  the  great  old  mill,  ruin  within  and  without.  As 
it  was  with  the  walls  of  stone,  and  the  great  tower  of 
woodwork  above  them,  so  it  was  with  the  outbuildings 
beyond  the  doorway,  within  which  he  stood.  The  walls 
remained,  heavily  buttressed  by  the  hardy  hands  of  a 
race  of  men  who  had  understood  so  well  the  necessity 
for  fortifying  their  homes  against  all  eventualities,  but 
the  timbers  of  the  roofs  had  long  since  fallen  victims  to 
the  inclemencies  of  the  seasons  and  the  ruthless  "  North- 
easters "  which,  probably,  since  the  time  when  the  iron 
shores  of  Britain  first  emerged  from  beneath  the  waters, 
had  beaten  their  relentless  wings  against  the  barrier 
which  held  up  their  freedom. 

Ruxton  set  his  lantern  on  the  ground  and  moved  away 
to  the  wide  doorway,  which  no  longer  possessed  the  re- 
motest sign  of  the  old  wooden  doors  which  had  probably 
been  at  one  time  heavy  enough  to  resist  a  siege.  Here 
he  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  read  it  carefully 
over  by  the  light  of  the  sunset. 

"  DEAR  MR.  FAR  LOW  : 

"  I  never  knew  your  wonderful  coast  could  be  so 
interesting,   even  absorbing.     J  feel  I  owe  you  personal 


THE  OLD  MILL  COVE  79 

thanks  for  a  delightful  time,  simply  because  you  live — 
where  you  live.  I  have  discovered  a  most  wonderful 
spot.  I  say  discovered,  but  probably  you  have  known 
it  from  the  days  when  you  were  first  able  to  toddle 
about  by  yourself.  However,  I  must  tell  you  of  it.  It 
is  an  old,  old,  ruined  mill,  regarded  by  the  folks  on  your 
coast  as  an  evil  place  which  is  haunted  by  the  spirits  of 
the  smugglers  who  once  upon  a  time  used  it  as  the  head- 
quarters for  their  nefarious  trade.  But  the  incredible 
part  of  it  is  we  unearthed  a  secret  in  it  which  has  re- 
mained hidden  for  generations,  possibly  centuries.  Now 
listen  carefully  and  I  will  tell  you  of  this  secret.  In  the 
middle  of  the  stone  chamber  under  the  mill  there  is  the 
entrance  to  a  passage  which  communicates  with  that 
villainous  cove  over  which  the  evil  eye  of  the  old  mill  for- 
ever gazes.  Six  inches  beneath  the  surface  of  the  debris 
on  the  floor  there  is  a  slate  slab,  and,  on  raising  this,  you 
will  discover  a  stone  staircase  which  goes  down,  down, — 
follow  it,  and  you  shall  see  what  you  shall  see.  I  have 
since  discovered  that  this  is  the  only  means  of  reaching 
the  beach  of  the  cove — unless  you  possess  wings.  But  I 
began  this  note  with  the  intention  of  only  telling  you 
how  much  I  am  looking  forward  to  seeing  you  again  on 
Thursday  evening  at  eight  o'clock.  I  do  hope  you  are 
taking  full  advantage  of  your  vacation  from  parlia- 
mentary work,  and  are  storing  up  plenty  of  good  health 
upon  your  wonderful,  wonderful  moors. 

"  Yours  very  sincerely, 

"VITA  VLADIMIR." 

Ruxton  refolded  the  letter  and  put  it  away.  He  under- 
stood it  was  the  final  summons  to  that  great  adventure 
which  was  to  tell  him  of  the  threat  overshadowing  his 
beloved  country. 

He  had  obeyed  it  readily,  eagerly,  and  now  that  the 
reality  of  the  whole  thing  was  developing  he  paused  to 
consider  the  motives  urging  him. 


8o  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

He  was  going  to  witness  things  first  hand.  He  was 
glad.  His  understanding  of  duty  assured  him  that  it 
was  the  only  means  by  which  he  could  hope  to  convince 
others,  when  the  time  came.  But  was  this  his  sole 
motive  ?  Was  this  the  motive  which  had  inspired  that 
feeling  of  exaltation  when  he  first  read  the  perfumed 
note,  so  carefully  written  lest  it  should  fall  into  wrong 
hands  ?  He  knew  it  was  not. 

His  eyes  were  raised  to  the  glistening  sea  away  beyond 
the  cove.  He  was  gazing  straight  out  through  the  nar- 
row opening  of  the  cove  where  the  precipitous  cliffs  rose 
sheer  out  of  the  blue  waters  and  marked  the  entrance 
which  the  country-folk  sensationally  loved  to  call  "  Hell's 
Gate."  His  mind  was  searching  and  probing  the  feel- 
ings which  inspired  him,  and  he  knew  that  the  beckon- 
ing hand  of  the  woman  was  exercising  a  greater  power 
than  any  sense  of  duty.  He  did  not  blind  himself.  He 
had  no  desire  to.  Those  dark  Slavonic  eyes  of  his  were 
wide  and  bright,  and  the  half  smile  of  them  was  full  of 
an  eager  warmth.  The  idealist  mind  behind  them  was 
widely  open  to  its  own  imagery.  He  saw  through  those 
Hell's  Gates  the  perfect,  palpitating  figure  which  had 
poured  out  its  burden  of  soul  to  him  on  the  edge  of 
those  very  cliffs ;  and  she  was — beckoning. 

The  youth  of  him  had  been  engulfed  in  the  soul  of  the 
woman.  Nor,  as  yet,  did  he  realize  the  extent  of  the 
power  she  was  exercising.  All  he  knew  was  that  he 
had  neither  the  power  nor  desire  to  resist  the  summons, 
and  herein  lay  the  distinguishing  mark  of  those  whom 
Destiny  claims. 

After  a  few  moments  he  glanced  at  his  watch.  And 
at  once  the  alertness  of  the  man  was  displayed.  It  was 


THE  OLD  MILL  COVE  81 

twenty  minutes  to  eight,  and  shortly  after  eight  it  would 
be  low  tide.  The  appointment  had  been  made  with 
regard  to  that,  and  that  while  he  approached  from  the 
land,  she  would  come  by  water.  Therefore  he  must  not 
delay. 

Dismissing  every  other  consideration  he  turned  back 
to  the  mysterious  stairway  he  had  unearthed  and  began 
its  descent,  aided  by  the  light  of  the  lantern  he  had  dis- 
covered secreted  upon  the  top  step,  ready  for  his  use. 

His  progress  was  rapid  and  easy.  The  vaulted,  de- 
clining passage  beneath  the  mill  was  high  and  wide, 
and  constructed  of  masonry  calculated  to  withstand  the 
erosion  of  ages.  It  was  moist  and  slimy,  and  the  steps 
were  at  times  slippery,  but  these  things  were  no  deter- 
rents. 

The  stairway,  however,  seemed  endless  in  the  dim 
lantern  light,  and  by  the  time  he  had  completed  the 
journey  he  had  counted  upwards  of  one  hundred  steps. 
At  the  bottom  he  paused  and  looked  back  up  the  way  he 
had  come,  but,  in  the  blackness  of  the  tunnel,  his  light  re- 
vealed little  more  than  the  first  few  steps. 

Without  further  pause  he  turned  to  ascertain  the  nature 
of  the  place  upon  which  the  stairway  had  debouched.  It 
was  a  wide  and  lofty  cavern  of  Nature's  fashioning,  except 
that  the  walls  and  the  natural  obstructions  of  the  flooring 
had  been  rendered  smooth  and  clear  by  the  hand  of  man. 
It  was  easy  to  estimate  the  purposes  of  this  subterranean 
abode.  There  was  less  imagination  in  the  legends  of  the 
old  mill  than  he  had  supposed.  If  the  books  of  his  child- 
ish reading  had  any  foundation  in  their  local  color  this 
was  certainly  the  den  of  some  old-time  smugglers. 

He  passed  rapidly  along  the  declining  passage,  and  the 


82  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

end  of  it  came  as  he  expected  to  find  it.  It  was  a  cave 
which  opened  in  the  face  of  the  cliff  overlooking  the  cove, 
but  so  ingeniously  hidden  by  Nature  that  its  presence 
could  never  have  been  even  guessed  at  by  any  chance 
visit  from  the  sea. 

He  stood  at  the  opening  and  gazed  out  upon  the 
already  twilit  cove.  But  he  could  not  see  the  sea  from 
where  he  stood  ;  only  along  the  face  of  the  cliff  to  his 
right,  down  which,  zigzagging  and  winding,  a  sort  of 
rough-hewn  stairway  communicated  with  the  beach  below. 
In  front  of  him  a  great  projection  of  rock,  as  though 
riven  from  the  main  cliff  at  some  far-off  time  by  the 
colossal  forces  of  Nature,  hid  the  entire  entrance  of  the 
cavern.  And  so  narrow  was  the  space  intervening  that 
he  could  touch  it  with  an  outstretching  of  his  arm.  It 
was  a  remarkable  hiding-place.  Nor  did  he  marvel  that 
he  had  never  heard  of  it  before.  But  the  rapidly  deepen- 
ing twilight  of  the  cove  warned  him  of  the  approach  of 
the  hour  of  his  appointment.  So  he  blew  out  his  lantern 
and  began  the  descent  to  the  beach  nearly  fifty  feet 
below. 

Within  five  minutes  he  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  a 
patch  of  golden  sand  with  the  still  ebbing  water  of  the 
cove  lapping  gently  at  his  feet. 

A  curious  change  had  come  over  him.  All  interest 
inspired  by  the  journey  through  the  cavern  was  entirely 
gone.  Even,  for  the  time,  he  had  no  longer  any  thought 
of  the  purpose  for  which  he  was  there.  His  mind  was 
absorbed  in  the  curious  weird  of  the  place,  and  the  dread- 
ful feeling  of  overwhelming  might  bearing  in  and  down 
upon  him. 

The    appalling    grey   barrenness,   the   height  of    the 


THE  OLD  MILL  COVE  83 

frowning1  ramparts  which  surrounded  him  on  all  sides, 
except  the  narrow  opening  to  the  sea.  The  absolute 
inaccessibility  of  those  frowning  walls,  and  the  melan- 
choly scream  of  the  thousands  of  gulls  which  haunted  the 
place.  It  was  tremendous.  It  was  terrible.  But  added 
to  all  these  things  was  a  discovery  which  he  made  almost 
upon  the  instant.  With  the  instinct  of  personal  security 
his  eyes  sought  the  high-water  mark  upon  the  beach. 
There  was  none.  It  was  high  up  on  the  cliff  sides  at  no 
point  less  that  ten  feet  above  the  highest  point  of  the 
beach.  Herein  lay  the  terror  of  the  cove  which  lived  in 
the  minds  of  the  dwellers  upon  the  moors.  Here  was  its 
real  terror.  A  rising  tide,  and  the  secret  of  the  smuggler's 
cavern  undiscovered,  and — death  !  He  smiled  as  he 
thought  of  the  name  given  to  the  entrance  to  the  cove. 
Hell's  Gate  1  It  was  surely 

"Ahoy!" 

The  cry  echoed  about  the  grey  walls  in  haunting 
fashion.  Ruxton  was  startled  out  of  his  reverie.  In  a 
moment  his  repulsion  at  what  he  beheld  was  forgotten. 
He  remembered  only  his  purpose,  and  his  searching  eyes 
gazed  out  over  the  water. 

"  Ahoy  1 "  he  replied,  when  the  last  echo  of  the  sum- 
mons had  died  out. 

He  could  see  no  boat.  He  could  discover  no  human 
being.  And — it  was  a  man's  voice  that  had  hailed  him. 

For  some  moments  a  profound  silence  prevailed.  Even 
the  gulls  ceased  their  mournful  cries  at  the  intrusion  of  a 
human  voice  upon  their  solitude. 

Ruxton  searched  in  every  direction.  Was  this  another 
surprise  of  this  extraordinarily  mysterious  place  ?  Was 
this ?  Quite  suddenly  his  gaze  became  riveted  upon 


84  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

a  spit  of  low,  weed-covered  rock,  stretching  out  into  the 
calm  water  like  a  breakwater.  There  was  a  sound  of 
clambering  feet,  and  as  his  acute  hearing  caught  it,  a  sort 
of  instinct  thrust  his  hand  into  his  coat  pocket  where  an 
automatic  pistol  lay.  Then  he  laughed  at  himself  and 
withdrew  his  hand  sharply.  The  figure  of  a  man 
scrambled  up  on  to  the  breakwater. 

They  stood  eyeing  each  other  for  several  thoughtful 
moments.  Then  without  attempting  to  draw  nearer  the 
stranger  called  to  him. 

"  Mr.  Farlow,  sir.     This  way,  if  you  please." 

Without  hesitation  Ruxton  crossed  over  to  him  and 
scrambled  on  to  the  rocks. 

"  You  are  from ?  "  he  demanded. 

The  question  was  put  sharply,  but  without  suspicion. 

"  The  lady's  waiting  for  you  out  there,"  replied  the  man 
simply.  "  We  haven't  much  time,  sir.  You  can't  come 
in  here  on  a  rising  tide,  and  you  can't  get  out  of  it  either. 
It's  hell's  own  place  for  small  craft,  or  any  craft  for  that 
matter  on  a  rising  tide."  He  threw  an  anxious  glance  at 
the  water. 

Ruxton  was  gazing  down  at  the  little  boat  lying  the 
other  side  of  the  natural  breakwater.  It  was  a  petrol 
launch  of  some  kind,  but  small  and  light  as  a  cockle- 
shell. There  was  another  man  in  the  stern,  and  he  ob- 
served that  both  he  and  the  man  beside  him  were  in  some 
sort  of  uniform. 

"  I  didn't  see  you  come  in,"  he  went  on  curiously. 

"  We've  been  lying  here  half  an  hour,  sir.  Our  orders 
were  to  wait  till  just  before  the  tide  turned.  We've  got 
about  half  an  hour,  sir,"  the  man  added  significantly. 

"  Where's  the  vessel?"  enquired  Ruxton. 


THE  OLD  MILL  COVE  85 

"  Just  outside,  sir." 

"  I  didn't  see  her." 

"  She's  lying  submerged." 

"  And  Miss  Vladimir  is — aboard  ?  " 

"  The  lady  is,  sir,"  replied  the  man,  with  a  shadow  of  a 
smile  in  his  deep-set  blue  eyes. 

The  stranger  stood  aside,  a  direct  invitation  to  Ruxton 
to  climb  down  into  the  boat.  But  the  latter  made  no 
move  to  do  so. 

Then  the  man  pushed  his  peaked  cap  back  from  his 
forehead  and  displayed  a  shock  of  sandy  grey  hair  which 
matched  his  closely  trimmed  whiskers. 

"  You'll  excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said,  a  trifle  urgently, 
"but  we've  got  to  get  out  smart.  Once  the  tide  turns  it 
races  in  here  like  an  avalanche.  We'll  never  make  Hell's 
Gates  if  we  aren't  smart,  and  we  don't  want  to  get  caught 
up  in  Hell  itself." 

The  man's  urgency  had  the  desired  effect.  Ruxton 
stooped  down  and  lowered  himself  into  the  bow  of  the 
boat. 

"That's  right,  sir,  it'll  trim  the  boat,"  the  man  ap- 
proved, as  he  dropped  lightly  in  amidships.  In  a  mo- 
ment the  clutch  was  let  in  and  the  little  craft  backed  out 
of  its  narrow  harbor. 

It  was  a  moment  of  crisis.  Ruxton  Farlow  had  prac- 
tically committed  himself  to  the  power  of  these  strangers. 
Not  quite  though.  For  he  had  taken  the  bow  seat,  and 
his  loaded  automatic  was  in  his  pocket  still.  However, 
the  position  was  not  without  considerable  risk.  He  had 
expected  to  meet  Vita.  Instead  he  had  been  met  by  two 
men  in  uniform.  They  were  both  in  middle  life,  and 
burly  specimens  of  the  seafaring  profession. 


86  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

He  had  calculated  the  chances  carefully  before  taking 
his  final  decision.  Moreover  he  had  closely  appraised 
the  men  in  charge  of  the  boat.  They  were  British.  Of 
that  he  was  certain.  Nor  were  they  men  without  educa- 
tion. On  the  whole  he  did  not  see  that  the  balance  lay 
very  much  in  their  favor  if  any  treachery  were  contem- 
plated. 

"  You  are  British,"  he  said  to  the  man  in  front  of  him, 
as  the  boat  swung  round  head  on  to  the  gates  of  the  cove 
and  began  to  gather  speed. 

"  Yes,  sir.  Served  my  time  in  the  Navy — and  had  a 
billet  elsewhere  ever  since." 

"  Since  the  war  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.     Before  the  war." 

"  Where  ?  " 

The  man  faced  round  with  a  smile,  while  his  comrade 
drove  the  little  boat  at  a  headlong  pace  through  the 
racing  waters. 

"  Where  a  good  many  of  our  Navy's  cast-offs  go,  sir. 
In  Germany." 


CHAPTER  VII 

ON   THE  GREY  NORTH   SEA 

BRIEF  as  was  the  interval  between  leaving  the  treacher- 
ous cove  and  the  moment  when  Ruxton  Farlow  found 
himself  surrounded  by  the  tasteful  luxury  of  the  saloon 
of  the  long1,  low,  strange-looking  craft  waiting  just  out- 
side to  receive  him,  it  was  not  without  many  thrilling 
experiences. 

To  a  man  of  less  imagination  the  very  few  minutes  in 
the  petrol  launch  would  have  meant  little  more  than  a 
rather  exciting  experience.  But  for  Ruxton  they  pos- 
sessed a  far  deeper  significance.  Nor  was  the  least  the 
feeling  that  he  had  slammed-to  the  doors  of  the  life  be- 
hind him,  bolted  and  barred  and  locked  them,  and — flung 
away  the  key. 

That  was  the  man.  Sensitive  to  every  mood  that 
assailed  him,  yet  urged  on  by  an  indomitable  purpose,  he 
had  no  more  power  to  raise  a  hand  to  stay  the  tide  of 
life  upon  which  he  was  floating  than  he  had  to  check  the 
racing  current  which  bore  him  beyond  the  threatening 
shoals  of  the  Old  Mill  Cove. 

What  a  mill-race  the  latter  was !  The  man  in  charge 
of  the  launch  had  by  no  means  exaggerated  it.  The 
little  craft,  urged  by  its  powerful  motor,  surged  through 
the  water  till  the  sea  washed  over  its  prow,  and  Ruxton 
was  forced  to  shelter  beneath  the  decked-in  peak,  whence 


88  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

he  could  observe  the  man  amidships,  who  never  once 
desisted  from  his  efforts  on  the  well  pump. 

Then,  just  beyond  the  jaws  of  the  cove,  they  entered  a 
stretch  of  tumultuous  popple  where  the  ebb  met  the 
opposing  currents  along  the  coast.  Here  the  boat  was 
tossed  about  like  the  proverbial  feather,  and  to  navi- 
gate it  into  the  smooth  water  beyond  demanded  all 
the  consummate  seamanship  of  those  responsible  for  its 
safety. 

Then,  out  of  the  heart  of  the  grey  waters,  came  the 
abrupt  rising  of  the  submersible.  There  was  a  tremen- 
dous swirling  and  upheaval  less  than  fifty  yards  away, 
and  the  grey-green  monster  of  the  deep  reared  its  forlorn- 
looking  deck,  with  its  conning-tower,  its  sealed  hatch- 
ways, and  its  desolate  deck  rails,  above  the  surface,  and 
lay  there,  long  and  low  and  as  evil-looking  as  only  a 
mind  filled  with  memories  of  the  late  war  could  have 
pictured  it. 

Two  minutes  later  Ruxton  had  left  the  little  launch, 
had  stepped  aboard  the  submersible  and  passed  down 
the  "  companion  "  to  the  saloon  beneath  the  flush  deck, 
once  more  to  be  greeted  by  the  woman  who  seemed  to 
have  become  so  much  a  part  of  the  new  life  opening  out 
before  him. 

Her  greeting  was  cordial. 

"  I  knew  you  would  come,"  she  said,  as  she  left  her 
hand  for  a  moment  in  his.  Then  her  grey  eyes,  so  full 
of  warmth,  shadowed  for  a  moment.  "  And  now  that 
you  have  come  I — could  almost  wish  that  I  had  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  You  see,  I  haven't  the  courage  of 
my  convictions.  I  know  they  are  right,  but — I  am 
afraid," 


OUT  OF  THE  HEART  OF  THE  WATERS  ROSE  THE  SUBMERSIBLE. 


ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA  89 

When  he  answered  her  the  influence  of  the  woman  was 
greater  than  Ruxtoh  knew. 

"  You  need  not  be,"  he  said  simply.  "  We  are  not 
fighting  for  ourselves,  so — why  fear?" 

The  woman  had  no  verbal  reply.  She  regarded  for 
one  moment  the  strong  face  of  the  man,  and  the  mean- 
ing of  that  regard  was  known  only  to  herself.  Had  Rux- 
ton  possessed  more  vanity  it  is  possible  he  might  have 
read  it  aright,  but  vanity  with  him  was  so  small  a  quan- 
tity as  to  be  almost  negligible. 

Again  the  woman  held  out  her  hand. 

"The  tide  will  not  wait.  I  must  hurry  ashore."  Then 
she  smiled.  "  I  must  go,  too,  while  the  courage  your 
words  have  momentarily  inspired  remains.  My  father 
will  join  you  immediately.  Good-bye  and  good — —  " 

"You  do  not  travel  with  us?" 

Ruxton's  enquiry  was  frankly  disappointed.  The  other 
shook  her  beautiful  head. 

"  No  woman  may  venture  where  you  are  going.  No 
woman  has  ever  set  foot  there.  I  know  it  all,  as  you 
will  understand  later,  but — no,  I  return  with  the  launch. 
The  tide  will  just  serve  us.  Good-bye  and  good  luck." 

Ruxton  was  left  listening  to  the  sound  of  her  footsteps 
mounting  the  companionway.  Then,  as  he  heard  the 
door  of  the  conning-tower  above  close  with  a  slam,  he 
turned  about  and  sought  one  of  the  luxurious  sofas  with 
which  the  saloon  was  furnished. 

As  he  sat  he  swayed  gently  to  the  motion  of  the  ves- 
sel, and  for  the  first  time  became  aware  of  the  automatic 
change  to  artificial  light  in  the  room.  He  knew  at  once 
that  the  vessel  was  returning  once  more  to  those  depths 
whence  he  had  witnessed  it  emerge.  He  gazed  about 


90  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

him  speculatively.  The  lights  were  carefully  placed  and 
diffused  to  prevent  the  trying  nature  of  a  constant  arti- 
ficial glare. 

He  became  aware  of  the  splendid  appointments  of  the 
saloon,  which  was  a  fine  example  of  the  marine  archi- 
tect's handicraft.  The  apartment  itself  was  some  twenty 
feet  wide,  and  he  judged  it  to  occupy  most  of  the  vessel's 
beam.  It  was  probably  a  similar  length.  The  carpet 
on  which  his  feet  rested  was  a  rich  Turkey.  Nor  were 
the  rest  of  the  furnishings  essentially  of  the  character  of 
a  ship's  cabin.  True,  there  was  a  centre  dining-table 
bolted  to  the  deck,  and  the  accompanying  swinging 
chairs,  but  there  was  a  full  grand  piano  of  German  make. 
There  were  several  comfortably  upholstered  lounges. 
There  was  exquisite  plastic  panelling  of  warm,  harmoni- 
ous tints  on  the  upper  parts  of  the  walls  and  the  ceilings, 
while  the  lower  walls  were  clad  in  polished  carved  ma- 
hogany. He  sought  for  the  source  of  the  daylight  which 
had  filled  the  room  when  he  first  entered,  and  discovered 
a  great  skylight  overhead  which  was  now  covered  by  a 
metal  shield  on  the  outside,  which,  he  concluded,  must 
close  over  it  automatically  with  the  process  of  submerging. 

But  his  further  observations  were  cut  short  by  the 
abrupt  opening  of  a  door  in  the  mahogany  panelling 
and  the  entrance  of — Mr.  Charles  Smith.  He  came 
swiftly  across  the  room,  his  steps  giving  out  no  sound 
upon  the  soft  carpet. 

"  Mr.  Farlow,"  he  cried,  holding  out  one  tenacious 
hand  in  greeting,  "  you  have  done  me  a  great  honor,  sir. 
You  have  done  me  an  inestimable  service  in  coming. 
I  can — only  thank  you." 

But  Ruxton  was   less  attentive  to  his  words  than  to 


ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA  91 

the  man.  There  was  a  change  in  him.  A  subtle  change. 
He  was  no  longer  the  enthusiastic  inventor,  almost  sla- 
vishly striving  to  enlist  sympathy  for  his  invention.  There 
was  something  about  him  which  suggested  command — 
even  an  atmosphere  of  the  autocrat.  Perhaps  it  was  that 
here  he  was  in  his  own  natural  element — the  element 
which  he  had  himself  created.  Perhaps 

But  he  left  it  at  that.  It  was  useless  to  speculate 
further.  He  still  experienced  the  sense  of  trust  and  lik- 
ing which  had  been  inspired  at  their  first  meeting  by  the 
noble  forehead  and  the  gentle,  luminous  eyes,  so  like,  yet 
so  unlike,  those  other  eyes  which  so  largely  filled  his 
thoughts. 

He  willingly  responded  to  the  extended  hand.  And 
the  man  seemed  to  expect  no  reply,  for  he  went  on  at 
once  — 

"  I  was  in  my  laboratory  when  you  came  aboard. 
Now  I  am  entirely  at  your  service." 

"  Good."  Ruxton  nodded.  "  I  feel  there  must  be  a 
lot  of  talk  between  us — without  delay." 

The  inventor  looked  at  his  watch.  Then  he  pointed  at 
the  lounge  from  which  Ruxton  had  risen,  and  seated  him- 
self in  one  of  the  swivel  chairs  at  the  dining-table. 

"  We  have  nearly  two  hours  before  supper  is  served. 
May  I  send  for  some  refreshment  for  you?" 

Ruxton  dropped  into  the  seat  behind  him. 

"  Thanks,  no,"  he  declined,  "  I  dined  early — purposely. 
All  I  am  anxious  for  now  is — explanation." 

The  manner  in  which  his  eyelids  cut  flatly  across  the 
upper  part  of  the  pupils  of  his  dark  eyes  gave  his  gaze 
a  keenly  penetrating  quality.  He  wanted  explanation, 
full  and  exhaustive  explanation.  Warnings,  and  mere 


92  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

intangible  suggestions,  no  longer  carried  weight.  He 
must  know  the  whole  thing  which  the  future  had  to 
reveal  to  him. 

The  white-haired  man  seemed  lost  in  thought.  Again 
Ruxton  noted  a  change.  The  lean  face  and  gentle  eyes 
yielded  to  something  very  like  an  expression  of  dejection. 
It  was  almost  as  if  the  man  shrank  from  the  explanations 
demanded  of  him,  while  yet  he  knew  they  must  be  made. 

At  length  he  raised  his  eyes  and  regarded  his  guest 
with  an  almost  pathetic  smile. 

"Explain?  Ah,  yes.  I  must  explain  everything  now." 
He  sighed.  "  Where — where  shall  I  begin  ?  "  He  crossed 
his  long  legs  and  strove  to  settle  himself  more  comfort- 
ably in  his  chair,  while  Ruxton  waited  without  a  sign. 

"  It  is  hard  to  explain — all,"  he  said,  after  a  brief 
pause.  "  But  I  know  it  must  be.  Mr.  Farlow,  can  you 
imagine  what  it  means  when  a  man  who  has  always 
regarded  his  honor  and  his  country's  honor  before  all 
things  in  the  world  suddenly  finds  himself  called  upon  to 
confess  that  his  country's  honor  has  been  outraged  by  his 
country,  and  his  own  honor  has  been  outraged  by  him- 
self? If  you  can,  then  perhaps  you  will  understand  my 
position  when  explanation  is  demanded  of  me." 

Ruxton  averted  the  steady  regard  of  his  eyes.  He  did 
not  desire  to  witness  this  man's  pain. 

"  I  think  I  know,"  he  said.  Then  quite  abruptly  he 
changed  from  the  English  language  to  German,  which 
he  spoke  with  the  perfect  accent  of  a  man  educated  in 
Frankfurt.  "  But  it  may  save  you  much  if  you  begin  by 
telling  me  your  real  name.  The  name  you  are  known 
by  in — Germany." 

A  pair  of  simple,  startled  eyes  gazed  back  into  his. 


ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA  93 

"  Has — Vita — told  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Ruxton  shook  his  head. 

"  Then  how  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Does  it  matter?     I  desire  to  make  it  easier  for  you." 

For  a  few  moments  neither  spoke.  The  artificial  light 
in  the  room  had  merged  once  more  into  daylight.  There 
was  again  the  sound  of  the  opening  and  shutting  of  iron 
doors  on  deck  above  them.  There  were  also  the  harsh 
tones  of  orders  being  given. 

Ruxton  knew  that  it  was  the  return  of  the  launch 
which  had  conveyed  this  man's  daughter  ashore,  and 
that  it  was  being  taken  on  board  and  stowed  within  the 
parent  craft.  Presently  the  sounds  died  away.  Once 
more  the  light  in  the  saloon  became  artificial,  and  the 
silent  throb  of  engines  made  themselves  felt.  The  jour- 
ney had  begun. 

"Well?" 

Ruxton  had  now  given  himself  entirely  to  the  use  of 
the  German  language. 

The  inventor  cleared  his  throat 

"  My  name  is  Stanislaus.  Stanislaus,  Prince  von 
Hertzwohl." 

Ruxton  Farlow  did  not  move  a  muscle.  There  was 
not  the  quiver  of  an  eyelid,  nor  one  detail  of  change  of 
expression.  Yet  he  was  not  unmoved  at  the  mention  of 
the  man's  real  name.  Although  he  had  half  expected  it, 
it  came  with  something  very  like  a  shock. 

Stanislaus  von  Hertzwohl !  Did  he  not  know  it  ?  Did 
not  the  whole  wide  world  know  it?  Was  it  not  the  one 
name,  out  of  all  the  great  German  names  associated  with 
the  war,  which  was  anathematized  more  surely  even  than 
that  of  the  Kaiser  himself  ? 


94  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Stanislaus  von  Hertzwohl !  The  man  who  had  per- 
fected the  German  submarine.  The  man  who  had  made 
possible  the  hideous  slaughter  of  innocent  victims  upon 
the  high  seas.  The  man  at  whose  door  was  laid  the  re- 
sponsibility for  that  inhuman  massacre — the  sinking  of 
the  Lusitania.  The  man  whom  the  world  believed  was 
the  father  of  every  diabolical  engine  of  slaughter  devised 
to  combat  his  country's  enemies. 

"  Of  course,  I  know  the  name,"  he  said  simply. 
"  Everybody  knows  it." 

His  reply  seemed  to  fire  the  powder  train  of  the 
Prince's  passionate  emotion. 

"  Ach ! "  he  cried,  with  a  desperately  helpless  gesture 
of  expressive  hands.  "That  is  it.  Everybody  1  Every- 
body knows  it !  They  know  the  name,  but  they  do  not 
know  the  truth." 

Then,  in  a  moment,  the  fire  of  his  emotion  seemed  to 
die  out. 

"  Mr.  Farlow,  I  want  you  to  know  that  truth,"  he  went 
on  calmly.  "  Will  you  listen  to  it  now  ?  Will  you  listen 
to  it  with  an  open  mind,  or — or  have  you  already  sat  in 
judgment,  and,  with  the  rest  of  an  unthinking,  unreason- 
ing world,  condemned  me?" 

Ruxton's  thoughts  were  pacing  rapidly  with  his  feel- 
ings. They  had  travelled  swiftly  back  to  that  moonlit 
night  upon  the  Yorkshire  cliffs.  To  him  had  come  the 
woman  again,  so  fair,  so  radiant  in  her  perfect  woman- 
hood, so  passionate  in  her  horror  of  the  tragedy  of  the 
world  war.  These  things  had  been  beyond  all  doubt  in 
their  sincerity  and  truth.  She  was  this  man's  daughter. 
She  was  loyally  supporting  her  father  now.  Then  his 
mind  passed  on  to  the  scene  in  the  library  at  Dorby 


ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA  95 

Towers.  It  had  been  his  work  for  years  to  deal  with 
people  whose  superficial  presentment  was  only  calculated 
to  cloak  real  purpose.  He  had  read  these  two  people 
out  of  his  experience. 

"  Judgment  is  only  for  those  who  possess  all  the  facts," 
he  observed  quietly.  "  Will  you  continue  ?  " 

The  decision  of  his  attitude  seemed  to  inspire  the  white- 
haired  man  so  patiently  awaiting  his  reply.  He  crossed 
his  legs,  and,  drawing  up  one  well-shod  foot,  nursed  its 
ankle  in  his  clasped  hands.  He  was  leaning  forward  full 
of  an  anxious,  nervous  expression  of  attitude.  It  almost 
seemed  as  if  his  guest's  judgment  were  to  him  a  last 
straw  of  hope.  The  noble  forehead  was  a-dew  with 
moisture.  His  bushy  eyebrows  were  sharply  drawn  in  a 
great  effort  of  concentration.  His  eyes,  so  widely  simple, 
usually  so  expressive  of  childhood's  innocence,  were  now 
full  of  a  suffering  that  was  almost  overwhelming. 

"  If  I  had  been  guilty  of  a  fraction  of  that  of  which  the 
world  accuses  me  could  I  have  dared,  or  cared,  to  ap- 
proach you  with  my  latest  invention,  and — the  other  pro- 
posals ?  Keep  that  question  in  your  mind  while  I  talk. 
It  is  so  easy  to  condemn,  and,  having  condemned,  re- 
versal of  judgment  is  well-nigh  impossible.  If  I  am 
guilty  it  is  only  of  a  patriot's  devotion  to  the  country  to 
which  /  believed  I  owed  allegiance.  That,  and  an  even 
greater  devotion  to  the  problems  of  making  possible 
those  things  which  seemed  impossible.  In  not  one  of 
the  problems  of  invention  have  I  ever  possessed  a  motive 
other  than  that  which  has  inspired  every  engineer  en- 
gaged upon  naval  armaments  in  every  other  country. 
Never  in  my  life  have  I  devised  any  weapon  for  the  army 
other  than  the  monster  siege  mortar.  The  liquid  fire,  the 


96  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

gases,  the  dozen  and  one  contrivances  for  slaughter  have 
found  their  inception  in  other  brains  than  mine.  I  state 
these  facts  simply.  You  must  trust  them,  or  dismiss 
them,  as  you  will.  I  am  a  marine  inventor  solely,  except 
for  that  one  weapon  which  was  legitimate  enough — the 
siege  mortar.  You,  who  understand  the  nature  of  marine 
invention,  must  assuredly  realize  that  one  man's  brain, 
one  man's  lifetime  are  all  too  brief  and  limited  to  permit 
a  division  of  his  powers  with  any  hope  of  success." 

He  paused  as  though  offering  opportunity  for  com- 
ment, but  none  was  forthcoming.  So  he  went  on,  his 
body  slightly  swaying  to  and  fro,  his  eyes  assuming  a 
passionate  fire  that  gave  to  his  whole  aspect  an  atmos- 
phere of  vigorous  protest. 

"  I  am  a  Pole,"  he  went  on  presently.  "  I  am  a  Pole, 
born  in  German  Poland.  My  parents  were  poor,  but  we 
claim  direct  descent  from  the  ancient  royal  house.  Now 
let  me  make  my  own  thoughts  and  feelings  clear  to  you. 
I  was  brought  up  under  German  methods,  German  educa- 
tion. I  was  taught,  as  every  child  within  the  German 
Empire  is  taught,  to  believe  that  Germany  is  above  and 
before  all  the  nations  of  the  world,  and  that,  in  the  brief 
life  of  this  earth,  nothing  else  but  German  national  inter- 
ests matter  to  its  people.  Now  mark  the  obvious  result 
of  such  a  training.  1  make  no  apology.  I,  beginning 
life  in  my  father's  little  engineering  shop,  finding  myself 
with  an  abnormal  capacity  for  invention,  seeking  to 
make  for  myself  and  family  a  competence — what  do  I  do? 
I  place  whatever  ability  I  may  possess  at  the  service  of 
Germany.  I  devote  myself  to  discovery  in  the  one  direc- 
tion in  which  official  Germany  has  looked  since  the  war 
of  1870. 


ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA  97 

"  The  next  step  comes  quickly.  It  came  so  quickly 
that  it  well-nigh  overbalanced  my  whole  sense  of  propor- 
tion. The  problem  that  appealed  to  me  was  the  enormous 
strength  of  fortresses  being  built  by  our  neighbors  against 
our  borders.  We  were  doing  the  same  against  theirs. 
It  was  almost  a  simple  problem.  I  said  that  if  our 
fortresses  were  stronger  than  theirs,  and  we  possessed  a 
secret  weapon  which  could  destroy  theirs,  then  our  empire 
was  safe  from  invasion  for  all  time.  So  it  came  about 
that  I  took  plans  of  my  great  siege  mortars  to  the  au- 
thorities. They  were  considered,  and  the  guns  were 
ultimately  made.  On  experiment  they  proved  an  in- 
stantaneous success,  and  I  was  at  once  given  rank  and 
wealth,  and  ordered  to  work  on  the  development  of  the 
gun-power  of  the  Navy.  It  was  this  that  converted  me  to 
marine  engineering.  From  then  onwards  my  career  be- 
came one  series  of  triumphs — from  Germany's  point  of 
view.  Till  now,  as  you  know,  I  have  been  rewarded 
with  the  revival  of  an  old  Polish  title,  to  which  by  birth  I 
am  entitled,  and  am  placed — as  perhaps  you  do  not 
know — in  supreme  command  of  Germany's  naval  con- 
struction." 

There  was  no  atmosphere  of  triumph  in  the  man's 
manner.  There  was  no  victorious  inspiration  in  the  tones 
of  his  voice.  With  each  word  which  announced  the 
progress  of  his  triumph  an  almost  painful  dejection  seemed 
to  settle  more  and  more  heavily  upon  him. 

Still  Ruxton  refrained  from  comment.  He  knew  that 
the  vital  things  had  yet  to  be  told.  Nor  had  he  any 
desire  to  break  up  the  man's  train  of  thought.  There 
still  remained  the  tragedy  of  triumph  which  this  man's 
life  concealed. 


98  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  man's  voice  came  again  in  level  tones  which  had 
lost  all  light  and  shade.  He  spoke  like  one  utterly  weary 
in  mind,  heart,  and  body. 

"  If  I  had  only  known,"  he  said,  with  a  dreary  shake  of 
his  snow-white  head.  "  But,"  he  added  with  a  shrug,  "  I 
did  not  know.  I  was  blinded  by  success,  and  a  passionate 
devotion  to  my  work."  He  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  But  I 
knew  later.  Oh,  yes.  I  knew.  The  greatest  triumph 
and  the  greatest  disaster  of  my  life  was  when  I  converted 
the  paltry  little  coast  defence  submarines  into  the  ocean- 
going pirates  they  afterwards  became.  But  it  was  not 
until  Germany  declared  a  submarine  blockade  of  these 
shores  that  I  knew  what  I  had  done.  Up  to  that  time  I 
had  been  a — German  patriot.  From  that  moment  I  be- 
came a  simple,  heart-broken  human  being.  My  legitimate 
engines  of  war  had  been  turned  against  the  innocent  lives 
of  a  defenceless  people,  and  when  the  massacre  of  fifteen 
hundred  souls  took  place  with  the  sinking  of  the  Lusitania 
I  think  for  the  time  I  became  demented." 

He  was  breathing  hard.  His  face  had  become  almost 
stony  in  its  expression.  It  was  the  face  of  a  man  who  for 
the  time  is  beyond  all  further  feeling.  Quite  abruptly, 
however,  he  released  his  hold  upon  his  foot,  and  ran  his 
long  fingers  through  his  shock  of  white  hair. 

"  Ach  !  How  willingly  would  I  have  undone  all  I  had 
done.  I  tried  to  resign  on  various  pleas.  Health  ! "  He 
laughed,  a  hollow,  mocking  laugh.  "  As  well  try  to 
struggle  free  from  the  strangling  rope  of  the  hangman 
with  hands  tied.  To  my  horror  I  found  that  I  belonged 
body  and  soul  to  Germany,  and  my  rank  and  wealth  was 
the  price  the  country  had  paid  for  my  brains.  Oh,  yes,  I 
was  no  honored  patriot  serving  my  country.  I  was  its 


ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA  99 

bond  slave,  the  slave  of  Prussian  militarism.  And  to  the 
end  of  my  days  that  slave  I  must  remain. 

"  Need  I  tell  you  of  all  the  suffering  I  have  since  en- 
dured ?  No,  I  think  not.  No  repentant  murderer  could 
have  suffered  more  for  his  crimes  than  I  have  done.  I 
have  striven,  by  every  possible  argument,  to  assure  my- 
self that  mine  was  not  the  blame,  but  no  conviction  has 
resulted.  The  world  cannot  blame  more  cruelly  than  I 
do  myself,  and  yet — I  am  innocent  of  all  intent. 

"  Throughout  all  the  struggle  I  have  had  with  my  own 
soul  no  glimmer  of  light  reached  me  until  my  daughter 
came  to  my  rescue.  And  I  think  it  was  her  woman's  wit, 
supported  by  her  own  brave  heart,  which  has  saved  me. 
She,  in  her  great  pity  and  love  of  humanity,  started  a 
fresh  thought  in  the  poor  brain  with  which  Providence 
endowed  me.  It  surely  was  only  a  woman's  mind  could 
have  conceived  so  simple  a  solution  to  my  trouble.  It 
was  all  done  in  one  brief  sentence.  She  said,  '  The  brain 
that  can  invent  to  destroy  can  invent  to  save.'  And 
from  that  moment  hope  came  to  me." 

He  leant  forward  urgently.  The  veins  at  his  temples 
stood  out  with  the  mental  effort  of  the  moment. 

"  Need  I  detail  the  result.  I  came  to  you  as  the  only 
possible  person  to  help  on  the  work.  You  were  selected 
after  careful  thought.  I  have  warned  you  of  the  threat 
hanging  over  your  country.  Now  I  will  show  you  the 
engines  of  destruction  which  I  have  been  forced  to  per- 
fect to  complete  the  execution  of  that  threat.  But  I  have 
already  shown  you  my  submersible.  You  are  now  on 
board  the  constructed  vessel,  the  development  and  adop- 
tion of  which  is  the  only  antidote  to  the  devilish  plans  of 
the  country  to  which  I  belong,  plans  which  are  stagger- 


ioo  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

ing  in  their  possibilities.  They  are  so  simple,  yet  so  vast 
and  terrible  when  made  against  England.  Listen  :  Ger- 
many has  abandoned  all  other  naval  construction  in 
favor  of  my  new  boat — the  Submersible  Dreadnought. 
Do  you  realize  the  type  ?  It  is  a  heavily  armored  vessel 
with  the  gun-power  of  the  surface  dreadnought,  and 
its  speed,  but  with  all  the  attributes  of  the  submarine. 
A  fleet  of  nominally  three  hundred  is  being  constructed. 
It  will  be  larger  by  far.  In  a  few  years  it  will  be  possible 
to  ring  your  country  round  with  these  lurking  machines, 
each  of  which  will  be  capable  of  engaging  successfully 
any  surface  war  vessel  ever  built,  while  its  submarine 
attributes  will  render  it  practically  immune  from  any 
combination  of  force  opposed  to  it.  Do  you  see  ?  Never 
again  will  England,  when  at  war  with  Germany,  be  able 
to  transport  her  armies  abroad.  Never  again  will  she  be 
able  to  feed  her  millions  of  people  through  overseas 
channels.  Henceforth  she  will  be  driven  to  peace  under 
any  conditions  and  her  mastery  of  the  seas  will  pass  from 
her  forever." 

Ruxton  stirred  in  his  seat.  He  shifted  his  position. 
The  man's  words  had  sunk  deeply. 

"  The  submersible  mercantile  marine  is  certainly  the 
obvious  retort,"  he  said  reflectively.  Then  he  added  as 
an  afterthought,  "  Temporarily." 

"  Yes.     Temporarily." 

Neither  spoke  again  for  some  moments.  Both  were 
thinking  ahead,  much  further  on  than  the  immediate 
future. 

"  And  after  the  submersible  dreadnought  ?  "  Ruxton's 
question  was  not  addressed  to  the  inventor,  but  it  was 
answered  by  him. 


ON  THE  GREY  NORTH  SEA  lol 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  One  of  these  two  countries  must  go 
under." 

"  Yes." 

Again  came  a  prolonged  silence.  Again  Ruxton  shifted 
his  position.  Then  at  last  he  spoke. 

"  And  you  will  show  me  these  things.  The  risk  will  be 
stupendous — for  you." 

Prince  Stanislaus  laughed  without  a  shadow  of  mirth. 

"  For  me  it  is  just  a  matter  of  life  and  death.  Life  has 
few  attractions  for  me  now.  For  you  ?  My  power  is 
sufficient  to  safeguard  you.  Shall  I  show  you  how  ?  " 

Ruxton  nodded.  His  penetrating  gaze  was  again  fixed 
upon  the  almost  cadaverous  features  with  their  snow-white 
crown  and  noble  forehead. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

Prince  Stanislaus  began  at  once.  And  talk  went  on 
between  them  for  many  minutes.  For  the  most  part 
Ruxton  listened,  as  was  his  way,  and  only  occasionally 
interpolated  a  shrewd,  incisive  question.  His  dark, 
penetrating  eyes  were  watchful  and  studying.  And  no 
change  of  expression  in  the  other  was  lost  upon  him. 

Slowly  within  him  there  grew  a  wide  admiration  for 
the  mentality  and  courage  in  this  strangely  simple  crea- 
ture. He  read  him  down  to  the  remotest  depths  of  his 
honest  soul.  Wherever  Prince  Stanislaus's  devotion  to 
his  life's  work  had  led  him,  there  was  no  shadow  of 
doubt  left  in  the  Englishman's  mind  as  to  his  present 
sincerity  and  honesty  of  purpose. 

When  the  last  detail  of  the  plan  had  been  explained 
Ruxton  stood  up. 

"The  judgment  of  the  world  is  rarely  inspired  by 
justice,"  he  said.  "  I  thank  you,  and  will  gladly  place 


102  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

myself  under  your  guidance.  Since  the  opportunity  of 
discovering  the  secrets  of  Kiel  and  Cuxhaven  has  been 
vouchsafed  to  me  I  should  be  far  less  than  the  patriot 
I  desire  to  be  did  I  shirk  the  risks.  My  duty  is  quite 
plain." 

The  relief  and  satisfaction  his  words  inspired  in  the 
other  were  obvious. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  said  earnestly.  "  You  have  helped 
me  to  that  peace  which  I  have  long  sought  and  I  had 
come  to  believe  could  never  again  be  mine  in  this  life. 
But " 

"But?" 

The  man  was  smiling. 

"  But  we  do  not  go  to  either  Kiel  or  Cuxhaven." 

Ruxton  was  startled. 
'    "  Where  then  ?  "  he  demanded  shortly. 

-1  To  the  Baltic.  Mr.  Farlow,  you  have  no  idea  of  the 
subtlety  of  the  people  with  whom  we  are  dealing.  All 
eyes  of  the  world  are  on  Cuxhaven  and  Kiel.  Every 
vulture  of  the  foreign  secret  services  is  hovering  over 
those  places,  and  the  forges  and  foundries  are  working 
to  deceive  them.  But  the  real  work  and  preparations 
I  speak  of  are  not  being  made  in  Germany  at  all.  We 
go  to  the  Baltic,  to  the  island  of  Borga,  which  is  off  the 
coast  of  Sweden.  And  there  we  shall  find  under  German 
administration  a  naval  '  Krupps,'  and  the  greatest  arsenal 
in  the  whole  world." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

BORGA 

A  GREY,  northern  day  devoid  of  all  sunshine ;  a  for- 
bidding, rock-bound  coast  lost  in  a  depressing  mist ;  a 
flat,  oily  sea,  as  threatening  to  the  mariner  as  the  mount- 
ing hillocks  of  storm-swept  water  ;  a  dull  sense  of  hope- 
lessness prevailing  upon  the  still  air.  All  these  things 
marked  the  approach  to  Borga ;  for  Nature  was  in  a  re- 
pellent mood,  a  thing  of  repugnance,  of  distrust  and  fear. 

A  long,  low  craft  was  approaching  the  gaping  jaws 
which  marked  the  entrance  to  the  heart  of  the  island, 
somewhere  away  in  the  distance,  lost  in  the  grey  mists 
which  seemed  to  envelop  the  whole  land. 

The  deck  was  narrow,  and  guarded  by  a  simple  sur- 
rounding of  low  rails.  Amidships  was  a  curious  construc- 
tion which  was  at  once  the  support  of  the  periscope,  the 
conning-tower,  and  the  entrance  to  the  interior  of  the 
vessel.  Dotted  about  the  deck  were  several  sealed  hatch- 
ways, and  the  sheen  of  glassed  skylights.  The  whole 
thing  was  colored  to  match  the  surrounding  grey-green 
waters. 

Two  uniformed  figures  were  standing  for'ard  in  the 
bows.  One  of  them  was  beating  the  air  with  twin  flags, 
one  in  each  hand.  The  other  stood  by  contemplating  the 
book  in  his  hand,  and  at  intervals  scanning  the  repellent 
shore  through  a  pair  of  binoculars. 

Presently  the  signaller  spoke. 


104  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  One,  six,  four,  seven,  nine,  three,  two,"  he  said,  recit- 
ing the  combination  of  numerals  in  German  with  the 
certainty  of  familiarity. 

"  One,  six,  four,  seven,  nine,  three,  two,  it  is,"  replied 
the  observer,  in  a  similar,  ill-spoken  tongue.  "  That's 
'  proceed/  "  he  added,  referring  to  his  book. 

Forthwith  the  signaller  produced  a  pocket  telephone 
connected  with  the  conning-tower  by  a  long  insulated 
"  flex,"  and  spoke  over  it.  A  moment  later  the  throb  of 
engines  made  itself  felt,  and,  in  response,  the  spume  broke 
on  the  vessel's  cut-water,  and  left  a  frothing  wake  astern. 

The  vessel  passed  the  mist-hooded  granite  headlands. 
It  left  them  behind,  and  itself  became  engulfed  in  the 
grey  threat  lying  between  the  overshadowing  heights 
towering  upwards  nearly  five  hundred  feet  towards  the 
leaden  sky. 

The  two  men  on  deck  gave  no  heed  to  their  immediate 
surroundings.  They  were  men  of  the  sea,  hard  and  un- 
imaginative. They  were  concerned  only  with  the  safety 
of  the  vessel  under  them.  They  would  drive  her  into  the 
very  gates  of  Hell,  if  such  were  their  orders.  But  they 
would  avoid,  with  all  their  skill,  the  pitfalls  by  the  way. 
They  knew  that  the  secrets  of  this  gloomy  abode  were 
many,  as  many  perhaps  as  those  of  the  very  Hades  they 
would  have  been  willing  enough  to  face.  They  knew, 
too,  that  those  secrets,  just  as  the  secrets  of  the  other 
place,  were  calculated  to  destroy  them  if  they  diverged 
one  iota  from  the  laws  which  governed  the  place.  So 
they  worked  exactly,  and  took  no  chances. 

The  channel  quickly  began  to  narrow.  The  vast  cliffs 
drew  in  upon  them  in  their  overpowering  might.  The 
barren  shores  were  visible  to  the  naked  eye,  and  the  white 


BORGA  105 

line  of  heavy  surf  boomed  and  boomed  again  in  its  inces- 
sant attack  upon  the  grim  walls.  Higher  up  small  patches 
of  pine  trees  clung  desperately  to  insecure  root-holds,  like 
the  intrepid  Alpini  seeking  to  scale  impossible  heights. 

A  few  minutes  passed  and  a  boat,  a  small  petrol-driven 
vessel,  like  some  cockle-shell  amidst  its  tremendous  sur- 
roundings, shot  out  from  the  shore  and  raced  towards 
them.  It  had  a  high,  protected  prow,  and  its  great  speed 
threw  up  a  pair  of  huge  white  wings  of  water  till  it  had 
something  of  the  appearance  of  an  enraged  swan  charg- 
ing to  the  attack  of  an  enemy.  Again  the  signaller 
spoke  over  his  telephone,  and  the  vessel  slowed  down, 
and  finally  hove-to. 

The  patrol  boat  drew  alongside.  Two  men,  amidships, 
in  oilskins,  held  a  brief  conversation  with  those  on  board 
the  intruder.  Then  their  vessel  passed  ahead,  and  the 
bigger  craft  was  left  to  amble  leisurely  along  in  its  wake. 

The  cliffs  had  closed  down  till  less  than  half  a  mile  of 
water  divided  them.  The  narrow  strip  of  leaden  sky 
above  looked  pinched  between  them.  For  a  mile  and 
more  ahead  there  was  no  change.  The  narrow  passage, 
with  its  racing  tide,  was  full  of  hidden  dangers,  not  the 
least  amongst  which  being  a  crowded  mine-field  which 
lined  either  side  of  the  channel. 

As  the  journey  proceeded  the  gloom  increased.  Added 
to  the  natural  mists  the  atmosphere  took  on  a  yellow  tint, 
which  suggested  an  overhanging  pall  of  smoke.  There 
was  no  joy  in  the  aspect  anywhere. 

The  end  of  the  passage  came  at  last,  and  the  pilot  boat 
dropped  astern.  Its  work  was  finished,  and  it  raced  back 
to  its  watching-post. 

Now  a  complete  change  came  over  the  scene.     But  it 


106  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

was  scarcely  a  change  for  the  better.  It  was  only  that 
Nature,  having  done  her  worst,  left  the  rest  in  the  safe 
hands  of  human  ingenuity. 

The  frowning  cliffs  abandoned  their  threat.  They 
ended  as  abruptly  as  they  had  arisen  out  of  the  sea. 
They  fell  back  on  either  hand,  carrying  the  shore  with 
them,  and  merged  into  a  mist-crowned  hinterland  of 
dark  woods  and  wide  ravines,  with  a  wide-stretching 
foreshore,  upon  which  was  built  a  great  city,  entirely 
surrounding  what  had  developed  into  a  miniature,  land- 
locked sea. 

Nature  had  certainly  left  her  incomplete  effort  in 
capable  hands.  Whatever  beauty  a  brilliant  sunshine, 
accompanied  by  a  smart  breeze,  might  have  discovered 
upon  the  inhospitable  shores  of  Borga  in  their  pristine 
state,  man's  hand  had  contrived  to  destroy  it.  The  whole 
prospect  was  sordid,  uncouth,  and  suggested  something 
of  a  nether  world  of  lugubrious  fancy.  All  that  could  be 
said  for  it  was  the  suggestion  of  feverish  industry  on  every 
hand.  The  buildings  looked  all  unfinished,  yet  they  were 
in  full  work  under  a  great  strain  of  pressure.  Borga  had 
been  built  in  a  hurry,  and  all  connected  with  it  suggested 
only  haste  and  industry. 

There  were  no  public  buildings  of  classic  model. 
There  were  no  roads  and  avenues  beautified  by  Nature's 
decorations.  Just  alleys  and  thoroughfares  there  were, 
and  only  sufficiently  paved  for  the  needs  of  the  work  in 
hand.  The  quays  and  docks  were  solid — only.  The 
great  machine  shops,  staring-eyed  and  baldly  angular, 
suggested  only  the  barest  necessity.  And  though  their 
hundreds  of  floors  sheltered  thousands  of  human  workers, 
and  acres  of  elaborate  machinery,  not  even  a  cornice,  or 


BORGA  107 

coping,  or  variation  of  brickwork  had  been  permitted  to 
make  sightly  a  structure  purely  for  utilitarian  purposes. 
The  slipways  at  the  water's  edge,  and  the  gaunt  steel 
skeletons  they  contained,  were  merely  slipways,  without 
other  pretensions.  A  thousand  smokestacks  belched  out 
of  their  fetid  bowels  an  endless  flow  of  yellow,  sulphurous 
smoke  upon  an  already  overladen  atmosphere.  They 
stood  up  like  the  teeth  of  a  broken  comb,  and  added  to 
the  sordidness  of  the  picture. 

A  faint  relief  might  have  been  found  for  the  primitive 
mind  in  the  numberless  blast  furnaces  to  be  detected  on 
almost  every  hand  by  their  shooting  tongues  of  flame. 
Like  all  else  in  Borga  they  never  ceased  from  their 
efforts.  Theirs  it  was  to  give  birth  to  an  everlasting 
stream  of  molten  metal  with  which  to  fill  the  crudely- 
wrought  sand  moulds  for  the  containing  of  pig-iron. 
The  rolling  mills,  too,  might  have  been  not  without  effect. 
Those  cavernous  worlds  of  incessant  clamor  rolled  the 
hours  and  days  away,  and  took  no  count  but  of  the  out- 
put from  their  soulless  wombs.  The  homes  of  the  deep- 
noted  steam  hammers,  and  the  fierce  puddling  furnaces, 
where  men,  bare  to  the  skin  except  for  a  loin-cloth,  with 
greased  bodies,  endure  under  showers  of  flying  sparks 
and  a  heat  which  no  other  living  creature  would  face. 
These  sights  were  perhaps  not  without  inspiration.  But 
the  sordidness  of  it  all,  its  crudity,  its  suggestion  of 
hideous  life  were  on  every  hand  ;  in  the  shrieking  loco- 
motives, with  their  tails  of  laden,  protesting  trucks;  in 
the  beer-drinking  booths ;  in  the  vast  heaps  of  rubbish 
and  waste  lying  about  in  every  direction  ;  even  to  the 
almost  bestial  type  of  man  whose  brain  and  muscle  made 
such  a  waste  of  industry  possible. 


io8  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

What  Nature  had  left  unfinished,  man  had  surely  com- 
pleted for  her.  Borga  was  repellent.  Its  life  was  ugly. 
But  ugliest  of  all  was  its  purpose. 

Essen  had  been  the  greatest  arsenal  of  all  time.  But 
since  the  birth  and  maturity  of  Borga  it  had  become  as 
a  village  compared  to  a  capital  city.  Borga  was  the 
mechanical  soul  of  an  empire.  It  was  the  iron  heart  of 
an  armored  giant,  upon  which  had  been  wantonly 
lavished  all  the  mentality  and  spiritual  force  of  a  nation 
bankrupt  in  every  other  human  feeling. 

The  incoming  vessel  moved  swiftly.  Ahead  lay  a  grey 
breakwater  which  formed  one  wall  of  a  small  harbor. 
An  open  channel  clear  of  all  shipping  indicated  its 
purpose.  It  was  obviously  the  official  landing-place. 
However,  if  the  channel  remained  clear  it  was  lined  on 
either  side  by  a  swarm  of  naval  craft,  much  of  which  was 
still  in  the  hands  of  artificers ;  for  here,  no  less  than 
ashore,  the  din  of  construction  was  going  on  and  the 
busy  hive  remained  true  to  its  purpose. 

The  men  on  deck  remained  indifferent  to  their  sur- 
roundings. Familiarity  left  them  free  to  give  undivided 
attention  to  their  work.  So  the  boat  glided  silently  in 
between  the  pierheads,  and,  in  five  minutes,  was  lying 
against  the  landing-stage  with  a  gangway  run  aboard. 

Two  men  emerged  from  the  conning-tower  and  stepped 
ashore,  where  a  small  group  of  uniformed  officers  were 
waiting  to  receive  them.  Prince  Stanislaus  von  Hertz- 
wohl  led  the  way,  followed  by  a  younger  man,  whose 
face  was  full  of  a  keen  intelligence,  while  his  dark  eyes 
were  those  of  a  dreamer.  Both  were  dressed  in  the 
uniform  of  German  naval  officers,  a  uniform  which 
particularly  seemed  to  suit  the  younger  man's  fair  hair. 


BORGA  109 

But  the  Prince  in  Borga  was  a  different  man  from  the 
inventor  displaying  his  models.  Here  he  was  an  autocrat 
— an  all-powerful,  high  officer  in  the  work  of  the  place. 
Therefore,  with  a  cold  acknowledgment  of  the  salute  of 
the  junior  officers,  he  passed  them  by  and  stepped  up  to 
a  man  of  elevated  military  rank,  who,  in  the  haughty 
aloofness  of  his  position,  was  standing  well  apart  from  the 
others. 

The  Prince  addressed  him  with  a  cold  sort  of  famili- 
arity. 

"  Ha,  Von  Salzinger,"  he  cried,  "  but  you  are  a  trouble- 
some people  here.  You  give  us  no  peace.  We  are 
called  to  straighten  out  the  muddles  of  Borga  when  our 
time  can  be  ill  spared  from  our  workshops.  Let  me 
present  my  nephew,  who  is  responsible  for  this  damna- 
tion light.  Herr  Leder  von  Bersac — the  military  gov- 
ernor of  Borga,  Captain-General  von  Salzinger." 

The  two  men  acknowledged  the  presentation,  and 
their  eyes  met  in  a  steady,  keen  regard.  Then  the  Prince 
went  on  — 

"What  is  it,  this  light?  Have  your  engineers  no 
thoughts  in  their  heads  but  beer,  or  is  it  that  they,  like 
the  asses,  have  grown  long  ears  ?  Come,  we  will  go  at 
once.  You  can  dismiss  your  ceremonial,"  he  went  on, 
indicating  the  group  of  officers.  "  I  have  no  time  for 
that.  I  am  an  engineer,  as  is  my  nephew.  Besides,  I 
must  leave  here  within  the  hour.  I  must  be  in  Berlin 
within  two  days  and  return  to  my  works  first.  So " 

"  Certainly,  Excellency,"  replied  the  Captain-General, 
unbending  before  the  man  whom  he  believed  through  his 
genius  to  be  the  most  powerful  influence  in  the  country 
at  the  moment.  "  But  I  think  the  fault  is  not  with  us — 


I  io  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

this  time.  No  doubt  Herr  von  Bersac  will  be  able  to  set 
the  matter  right.  But  an  hour  is  short." 

"  Ach,  so,"  cried  the  Prince,  with  irritation.  "Then  do 
not  delay.  Lead  us  to  the — place." 

Herr  von  Bersac,  watching  the  scene  with  his  dreamy 
eyes,  noted  the  attitude  of  the  two  men  towards  each 
other.  His  uncle's  manner  was  something  of  a  surprise 
to  him.  Nor  could  he  help  but  realize  the  other's  almost 
slavish  deference,  as,  in  response  to  the  older  man's  order, 
he  hastily  moved  off  shorewards. 

The  Governor  was  a  typical  Teuton.  The  broad, 
square  back  of  his  head  surmounted  a  thick,  fleshy 
neck.  His  blue  eyes  were  deeply  set  in  puffy  sockets. 
His  cheeks  were  full,  and  the  chin,  below  his  bristling 
moustache,  was  square  and  strong.  His  whole  appear- 
ance, in  his  brilliant  uniform,  was  of  cubist  inspiration, 
and,  in  spite  of  his  high  rank,  and  the  suggestion  of  grey 
about  the  temples  of  his  close-cropped  head,  he  could 
not  have  been  more  than  midway  between  thirty  and 
forty.  These  things  Herr  von  Bersac  noted  with  almost 
unnecessary  interest  in  spite  of  his  abstracted  air. 

But  Herr  von  Bersac  had  not  had  a  monopoly  of  ob- 
servation. While  the  Prince  had  been  talking  the  mili- 
tary governor's  small,  quick  eyes  had  not  been  idle.  He 
had  taken  the  nephew's  measure  to  the  last  inch  of  his 
great  height.  Such  observation  was  his  habit  as  well  as 
his  duty.  His  position  in  the  world's  greatest  secret 
arsenal  demanded  that  every  visitor  must  be  regarded  as 
a  possible  enemy  until  a  due  examination  of  his  creden- 
tials proved  him  otherwise. 

The  Prince  talked  as  they  made  their  way  to  an  exe- 
crable road  by  crossing  a  narrow-gauge  railway.  They 


BORGA  1 1 1 

skirted  piles  of  debris  almost  as  high  as  some  of  the 
adjoining  buildings.  And  the  general  impression  left  was 
one  of  carelessness  for  anything  but  the  work  going  on. 

"  This  place  is  the  worst  constructed  in  the  world,"  he 
declared,  as  he  stubbed  a  toe  against  a  pile  of  broken 
concrete.  "  There  is  no  system  in  it.  Where  is  the  sys- 
tem for  which  we  Germans  are  noted  ?  It  is  gone,  with 
many  other  things,  since  the  war.  We  think  so  hard  for 
the  downfall  of  our  enemies  that  we  have  no  time  for  all 
that  system  which  has  made  our  people  the  greatest  in 
the  world.  Ach  1  I  hate  Borga.  I  hate  it  more  every 
time  I  make  my  visit." 

Von  Salzinger  laughed  in  his  heavy  way. 

"Ah,  Excellency,"  he  said,  "the  war  has  taught  us 
many  things.  We  thought  we  knew  it  all.  Through 
that  very  system  which  was  so  great  we  wasted  much 
money  and  many  years,  for  our  enemies  achieved  almost 
all  which  we  had  in  less  than  two  years.  Now  we  work 
against  time.  Our  object  now.  is  no  longer  system,  but 
—result." 

"  I  am  glad,"  observed  the  Prince  with  some  acerbity. 
"  You  will  understand  then  why  I  can  give  you  only  an 
hour." 

"  Yes,  Excellency,"  deferred  the  other. 

He  had  no  desire  to  add  to  his  visitor's  obvious  ill- 
humor.  And  there  were  other  reasons  for  his  attitude 
than  the  mere  fear  of  his  power.  He  desired  this  man's 
personal  favor.  When  war  broke  out  in  1914,  before 
the  Prince  had  risen  to  his  present  power,  he,  Von  Salz- 
inger, had  been  brought  into  contact  with  his  daughter 
Valita  von  Hertzwohl  in  the  work  of  the  Secret  Service. 
It  had  fallen  to  his  lot  to  endeavor  to  utilize  her  in  his 


112  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

country's  service.  That  his  efforts  had  failed  was  not  his 
only  disaster,  for,  failing  to  enlist  her  cooperation,  he 
had  achieved  her  displeasure  with  himself.  And  her  dis- 
pleasure had  disturbed  him  more  than  the  other.  He  had 
fallen  a  victim  to  her  charms  in  a  manner  which  made 
her  displeasure  something  of  a  tragedy  to  his  vanity. 
But  he  was  as  vain  as  he  was  persevering,  and  with  him 
effort  was  a  continuous  process,  and  not  spasmodic. 

The  Prince  hurried  him  through  the  wilderness  of  in- 
dustry, and  the  haughty  military  governor  lost  much  of 
his  dignity  in  the  scurry,  and  in  his  effort  to  pay  defer- 
ential attention  to  his  visitor's  incessant  complaint.  An 
overwhelming  clanging  of  machinery,  intensified  by  the 
dull  thunderous  boom  of  adjacent  steam  hammers,  and 
the  machine-gun  rattle  of  the  riveting  hammers,  made 
talk  almost  impossible. 

Herr  von  Bersac  no  longer  displayed  the  least  interest 
in  his  companions.  Since  he  had  dropped  behind  them, 
and  was  safe  from  Von  Salzinger's  observation,  the 
dreaming  had  passed  out  of  his  dark  eyes.  They  were 
alight  with  a  keen  interest,  an  interest  almost  excited,  as 
the  wonders  of  the  place  revealed  themselves  to  him. 
But  the  works  and  their  busy  life  had  less  effect  than 
other  things.  His  whole  mind  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in 
the  direction  of  the  water,  and  the  numberless  naval  craft 
lying  at  their  moorings.  And  out  of  all  these  his  search- 
ing eyes  selected  one  type,  a  type  he  could  not  miss,  a 
type  which  seemed  to  be  prevailing. 

One  of  them  lay  so  near  inshore  that  he  could  observe 
its  every  detail  of  outward  construction.  It  was  a  curi- 
ous, ugly  vessel  of  strangely  vicious  type.  He  recog- 
nized it  at  once  as  of  the  submersible  pattern  of  the  vessel 


BORGA  1 1 3 

he  had  arrived  at  Borga  in.  But  it  was  so  huge.  It  was 
heavily  armored,  as  it  lay  there  in  light  draught,  high 
out  of  water,  and  on  its  deck,  in  place  of  the  simple  con- 
ning-tower  and  surmounting  periscope,  there  was  a  cen- 
tral armored  turret,  while,  fore  and  aft  of  this,  two  other 
turrets  bristled,  each  with  a  pair  of  1 2-inch  guns.  He 
had  no  time  for  a  closer  inspection  as  he  was  hurried 
along,  but  he  made  a  mental  note  that  the  vessel  was  a 
submarine  dreadnought,  and  that  there  were  nearly  fifty 
other  such  vessels  lying  about  at  their  moorings. 

He  seemed  fearful  of  concentrating  his  observation  too 
long  in  any  one  direction.  A  furtive  backward  glance 
from  the  Governor  promptly  diverted  his  attention.  It 
almost  seemed  that  he  had  no  desire  to  invite  Captain- 
General  von  Salzinger's  regard.  No  doubt  he  felt  that, 
though  his  uncle's  nephew,  he  was  still  only  admitted  to 
Borga  on  sufferance. 

Finally  they  approached  a  high-walled  enclosure  with 
closed  gates,  and  a  line  of  sentries  guarding  its  entrance. 
Immediately  he  became  absorbed  in  the  German  char- 
acters of  the  large  printed  notice  on  the  gates.  The 
notice  was  to  the  effect  that  all  entrance  to  this  place 
without  a  Governor's  permit  was  "  verboten." 

He  became  alert  and  watchful.  Doubtless  being  the 
engineer  responsible  for  the  success  of  the  new  U-rays 
lamp  he  felt  that  he  must  no  longer  permit  his  interest  to 
wander.  He  watched  the  square  figure  of  the  military 
governor  as  he  took  the  sentry's  salute.  He  observed 
the  junior  officer  who  promptly  threw  open  one  of  the 
massive  gates.  Then  his  whole  attention  became  ab- 
sorbed in  what  he  beheld  as,  with  his  companion,  he 
passed  within  the  enclosure. 


114  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

It  was  a  large  dock.  And  moored  at  each  of  its  three 
sides  was  a  submarine  dreadnought  of  even  greater  di- 
mensions than  the  one  he  had  seen  mounting  1 2-inch  guns. 

The  Prince  turned  to  him. 

"  This,  my  Leder,  is  the  place  where  we  deal  with  the 
things,  the  secret  of  which  the  world  will  never  know, 
but  the  effects  of  which  one  day  our  enemies  will  learn  to 
dread." 

He  laughed  with  the  satisfaction  of  anticipated  triumph. 
Then,  as  Leder  von  Bersac  grunted  out  some  unintel- 
ligible acquiescence,  he  turned  to  the  military  governor 
with  a  shrug. 

"  Ach,  what  will  you  ? "  he  cried,  in  apparent  disgust. 
"  He  has  no  delight,  no  appreciation  for  these  things. 
He  will  think  all  day.  He  will  work  in  his  light-rooms 
till  he  is  nearly  blind.  All  for  the  destruction  of  our  ene- 
mies. But  joy  ?  He  does  not  know  it.  If  you  tell  him 
his  work  has  slain  a  million  of  the  enemy  he  will  say  he 
can  make  it  kill  more.  Himmel !  Such  joy  1 " 

Ludwig  von  Salzinger  surveyed  this  enthusiastic  prod- 
uct with  curious  eyes.  But  he  offered  no  comment,  and 
the  Prince  hurried  towards  the  gangway,  and  led  the  way 
aboard  the  nearest  vessel. 

At  the  steel  doorway  of  the  armored  conning-tower 
he  paused.  His  whole  manner  abruptly  changed  to  one 
of  definite  command. 

"  If  there  should  be  a  defect  we  will  have  the  light  un- 
shipped, and  take  it  back  with  us,  Leder,"  he  said  decid- 
edly. "  You  cannot  work  in  the  pandemonium  of  Borga. 
It  is  only  fit  for  the  Captain-General's  artillerymen,  who 
have  ears  of  leather  and  brains  of  mud."  Then  he  turned 
upon  Von  Salzinger  in  a  manner  that  permitted  no  doubt 


BORGA  115 

of  his  purpose.  "  You  doubtless  have  more  pressing 
duties,  Herr  Captain-General.  Please  do  not  consider 
us.  Our  work  is  technical,  and  will  have  but  little  inter- 
est for  you.  Besides,  my  dear  Leder  may  have  to  ex- 
amine those  secrets  of  the  U-rays  which  even  your  chief 
engineer  is  not  admitted  to.  I  thank  you  for  conducting 
us  hither.  You  will  leave  word  for  our  safe  departure  at 
the  gates." 

His  dismissal  came  as  a  shock  to  Von  Salzingen  But 
more  than  anything  his  vanity  was  shocked.  To  feel 
that  this  man  had  the  power  to  dismiss  him,  here  in 
Borga,  as  he,  Von  Salzinger,  might  dismiss  one  of  his 
junior  officers,  was  infinitely  galling.  But  even  more  in- 
tensely galling  was  the  thought  that  this  boor  of  a  nephew 
could  calmly  move  about  in  Borga,  penetrate  its  most 
secret  workshops,  and  probe  the  secrets  which  lay  therein, 
while  he — he,  the  military  governor — was  ordered  about 
his  business. 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  Prince  von  Hertzwohl  had 
given  the  order,  and  he  must  obey  as  though  the  order 
had  issued  from  the  lips  of  the  All  High  War  Lord.  He 
bowed  a  short,  square,  resentful  bow  and  stood  aside  to 
allow  Von  Bersac  to  enter  the  conning-tower.  But  the 
glance  which  followed  the  tall  athletic  form  of  the  engi- 
neer was  no  friendly  one. 

He  must  obey  orders.  Well,  so  must  everybody  who 
entered  Borga — unless  they  were  of  higher  rank  than  the 
military  governor.  This  young  man  could  at  least  be 
put  to  the  indignity  of  the  inquisitorial  process  of  his 
officials.  And  he  knew  how  unpleasant  their  efforts 
could  be  made.  He  promised  himself  this  trifling  satis- 
faction, at  least — when  the  Prince  chanced  to  be  out  of 


ii6  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

the  way.  It  was  certainly  his  duty  that  this  young  man 
should  go  through  the  customary  process  which  all  vis- 
itors at  Borga  were  submitted  to. 

He  left  the  deck  of  the  dreadnought  as  the  Prince  and 
his  protegk  vanished  down  the  steel  companionway,  and 
passed  out  of  the  docks.  Nor  did  he  neglect  to  give  the 
necessary  orders  for  his  visitors'  departure.  After  that, 
however,  he  went  straight  to  his  headquarters. 

Meanwhile  the  Prince,  without  the  least  hesitation,  led 
his  companion  along  the  steel  passages,  past  the  maze  of 
machinery  which  formed  the  bowels  of  the  dreadnought. 
At  the  extreme  peak  of  the  vessel  was  situated  the  light- 
room  of  the  U-rays,  where  they  found  four  engineers  at 
work. 

The  men  saluted  and  stood  by  when  they  realized  the 
identity  of  their  visitors,  and  the  work  of  examining  the 
mechanism  of  the  wonderful  new  submarine  light  at  once 
began. 

Von  Bersac  took  small  enough  part  in  it.  The  Prince 
at  once  became  the  engineer.  The  skill  and  deftness, 
and  the  knowledge  he  displayed  were  incomparable.  He 
talked  the  whole  time  he  was  examining,  finding  fault 
here,  praising  there,  and  all  his  talk  was  addressed  to  his 
nephew  as  though  he  were  the  final  authority.  Von 
Bersac  remained  the  unenthusiastic  creature  he  had  ap- 
peared before  Von  Salzinger,  and  kept  to  his  attitude  of 
disjointed  grunts.  But  his  eyes  were  alert  and  appar- 
ently comprehending,  and  when,  in  imitation  of  the  other, 
he  examined  any  detail,  there  was  a  disarming  conviction 
about  all  his  movements.  Finally  they  tested  the  light, 
and,  after  a  number  of  tests,  the  Prince  threw  up  his 
hands  in  a  gesture  of  almost  ludicrous  despair. 


BORGA  117 

"  Ach,  Leder,"  he  cried,  "  it  is  not  the  fault  of  these 
good  fellows.  It  is  yours — yours  and  mine.  It  is  a 
month's  delay  at  least,  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Von  Bersac  silently  acquiesced. 

"  A  month  of  most  valuable  time,"  the  Prince  went  on. 
"  See  here,"  he  cried,  and  went  off  into  a  world  of  techni- 
calities beyond  even  the  comprehension  of  the  skilled 
engineers  present.  "  It  is  to  be  regretted,"  he  finished  up 
despairingly.  "  It  must  be  taken  down,  and  sent  back  to 
us.  But  these,  these," — he  laid  his  hands  on  two  portions 
of  the  delicate  mechanism  enclosed  in  polished  brass 
cylinders,  through  which  the  insulated  cables  passed — 
"  we  will  take  these  with  us.  They  can  be  trusted  in  no 
other  hands."  He  turned  to  the  chief  engineer.  "  Take 
these  out  without  delay.  Herr  von  Bersac  will  wait  for 
them,  and  convey  them  to  my  ship.  There  will  be  no 
difficulty,  Sever  the  cables  here,  and  here,"  he  added, 
indicating  spots  which  the  engineer  chalked  where  he  was 
to  cut  them.  "  Do  not  let  any  one  handle  them  when 
they  are  down,  Leder.  Bring  them  yourself." 

The  tall  figure  of  the  Prince  departed,  and  Leder  von 
Bersac  remained  while  the  engineers  carried  out  the  work. 

It  was  quite  simple.  There  was  no  difficulty.  The 
Prince  had  made  certain  of  this  before  he  left  his  nephew 
to  wait  for  the  two  cylinders.  But  the  men  worked  with 
great  care,  for  they  knew  that  in  those  two  simple  brass 
casings  lay  the  vital  secrets  which  were  to  transform  the 
submarine  dreadnoughts  from  lumbering,  groping  sea 
monsters  into  live,  active,  vicious  creatures  of  offense. 

It  was  just  within  the  hour  when  Leder  von  Bersac 
passed  out  of  the  dockyard  gates  bearing  the  two  brass 


ii8  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

cylinders  in  his  arms,  and  received  the  salutes  of  the 
sentries.  He  remembered  the  method  with  which  the 
Captain-General  had  received  them,  and  responded  in 
similar  fashion. 

He  passed  on  hurriedly  in  the  direction  of  the  landing- 
stage.  Twenty  yards  from  the  dock  gates  an  expression 
of  doubt  crept  into  his  eyes,  as  he  caught  sight  of  a  mili- 
tary officer  hurrying  towards  him  from  the  direction  of 
what  looked  like  a  miniature  fortress. 

However,  he  gave  no  sign.  He  continued  his  way. 
He  could  already  see  the  grey  wall  of  the  harbor  ahead. 
But  the  man  was  rapidly  overhauling  him,  and,  in  Von 
Bersac's  mind,  a  calculation  was  going  on  as  to  whether 
he  could  reach  his  uncle's  vessel  before  the  officer  came 
up  with  him. 

This  calculation,  however,  did  not  prove  to  his  satis- 
faction. He  knew  he  would  be  intercepted  before  he 
reached  his  destination.  And  the  thought  strangely 
disturbed  him. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  step  on  to  the  landing-stage  the 
officer  reached  his  side  and  saluted. 

He  spoke  at  once,  and  though  his  manner  was  perfectly 
deferential,  it  was  quite  decided. 

"  Will  Herr  von  Bersac  favor  the  Captain-General  with 
a  visit  at  his  headquarters  before  leaving  ?  The  Captain- 
General  requests  that  he  will  make  it  convenient — at 
once.  It  is  the  formal  matter  of  registerirrg  his  visit  to 
Borga." 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  tall  engineer  dwelt  for  a  moment 
upon  the  immobile  features  of  the  man  before  him.  He 
saw  the  authority  of  the  military  governor  in  the  whole 
swaggering  pose  of  the  man,  and,  for  a  moment,  his  firm 


BORGA  119 

lips  tightened.  Then,  as  though  by  a  great  effort,  over- 
coming his  reluctance  for  the  waste  of  words,  he  dis- 
played an  almost  unexpected  urbanity. 

"  It  will  give  me  very  great  pleasure  to  wait  upon  the 
Captain-General — at  once,"  he  replied.  "  It  will  be 
necessary,  however,  for  me  to  deposit  these  in  our  vessel 
— in  safety — before  I  do  so."  He  indicated  the  cylinders. 
"  You  will  understand  when  I  assure  you  they  are  the 
most  vital  portions  of  our  U-rays  light.  Perhaps  you  will 
favor  me  with  your  company  as  far  as  the  vessel  ?  " 

The  officer's  pose  underwent  a  slight  change.  His 
manner  became  even  less  deferential. 

"  My  orders  are — at  once,"  he  objected. 

Von  Bersac's  manner  remained  the  same,  but  his  dark 
eyes  looked  straight  into  the  other's. 

"  Quite  so.  Doubtless  my  uncle,  Prince  von  Hertzwohl, 
will  exonerate  you  for  the  brief  delay.  He  is  on  the  boat 
at  this  moment." 

The  words  were  well  calculated.  The  engineer  had 
thought  rapidly  and  made  his  decision  with  lightning 
celerity.  He  knew  that  he  must  reach  the  vessel  lying 
less  than  one  hundred  yards  away. 

He  had  his  reward,  and  a  slight  sigh  of  relief  escaped 
him.  The  military  insolence  had  left  the  other's  manner. 
The  mention  of  the  Prince's  name  had  created  a  modified 
atmosphere.  After  all  he  was  a  mere  Prussian  officer  ac- 
customed all  his  life  to  yielding  to  authority.  He,  like 
every  one  else  in  Borga,  knew  that  even  the  military 
governor  must  yield  to  the  authority  of  the  Prince. 
Therefore  he  yielded. 

"  It  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to — accompany 
you,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP 

PRINCE  VON  HERTZWOHL  looked  up  from  his  bureau. 
He  was  sitting  in  his  stateroom,  which  was  of  some  con- 
siderable size,  and  opened  out  of  the  saloon.  His  ears 
had  caught  the  sound  of  a  hasty  entrance  of  the  latter. 
His  luminous  eyes  were  alert  and  questioning.  The  man 
was  completely  changed  from  the  simple  inventor  who 
had  told  the  story  of  his  submersible  to  Sir  Andrew  Far- 
low  and  his  son.  There  was  a  restless,  nervous  tension 
about  him,  altogether  at  variance  with  his  customary 
calm. 

He  leapt  from  his  seat.  His  thin,  bent  figure  moved 
almost  electrically  towards  the  door.  The  next  moment 
he  had  entered  the  saloon.  The  other  side  of  the  room, 
and  just  within  the  entrance  doorway,  stood  Ruxton  Far- 
low,  still  clad  in  his  German  naval  uniform,  and  still  bear- 
ing in  his  arms  the  two  brass  cylinders.  There  was  an 
urgent  look  in  his  eyes,  and,  at  the  sight  of  it,  the  Prince's 
question  came  sharply. 

"What  is  it?"  he  demanded,  with  the  imperiousnessof 
a  man  accustomed  to  high  command. 

"Von  Salzinger,"  replied  Ruxton  quickly.  A  laugh 
followed  his  pronouncement.  It  was  the  laugh  of  a  man 
who  is  alive  to  the  danger  of  a  situation. 

"  Yes  ?  "  The  Prince's  further  enquiry  was  surcharged 
with  eagerness,  and  in  broad  contrast. 


THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP  121 

"  He  demands  my  presence.  I  have  to  conform  to 
regulations  and  register  my  visit  to  Borga  at — head- 
quarters. He  has  sent  an  officer  to  conduct  me  to  him 
— at  once.  The  officer  is  awaiting  me  on  the  landing- 
stage.  The  situation  has  possibilities." 

Ruxton's  outward  calm  was  not  shared  by  his  com- 
panion. The  Prince  displayed  his  realization  of  the 
necessities  of  the  moment.  His  eyes  were  bright  and 
concentrated.  Ruxton  watched  the  emaciated  features 
with  their  crowning,  upright  white  hair.  There  was  an 
ominous  sparkle  beneath  the  bushy  brows. 

"  I  saw  it  in  Von  Salzinger's  eyes  when  I  sent  him 
off,"  the  Prince  said  at  last.  "That  is  why  I  left  you. 
Had  his  order  come  in  my  presence,  while  ashore,  it 
would  have  been  awkward.  That  is  also  why  I  left  you 
to  bring  those  cylinders,  and  with  instructions  to  bring 
them  straight  here.  I  knew  you  would  make  this  vessel 
with  me  on  board"  He  pressed  an  electric  bell  in  the 
panelling. 

A  moment  later  a  uniformed  officer  appeared.  He 
stood  awaiting  the  Prince's  commands.  The  latter 
seemed  absorbed  in  thought.  Quite  abruptly  he  broke 
the  silence  with  a  series  of  sharp  orders. 

"  Send  a  man  ashore  at  once,  Captain  Ludovic. 
There  is  an  officer  waiting  there  with  certain  orders 
from  the  Captain-General.  Convey  to  him  my  com- 
pliments, and  ask  him  to  step  aboard  as  I  wish  him  to 
convey  an  important  message  to  the  military  governor. 
For  yourself,  you  will  stand-by.  The  moment  he  enters 
the  tower  you  will  have  the  moorings  cast  off.  Just  keep 
the  boat  held  to  the  quay  fore  and  aft  by  light  lines  which 
can  be  released  at  a  moment.  When  the  officer  reap- 


122  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

pears  you  will,  the  instant  he  has  passed  ashore,  clear  the 
gangway,  cast  off  the  light  moorings,  and  full  power 
ahead  out  of  the  harbor.  I  do  not  know  the  effect  of 
my  message  on  the  military  governor,  but  I  expect  he 
will  endeavor  to  stop  me.  This  must  not  be  permitted. 
You  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Excellency."  The  man  offered  no  further  com- 
ment. 

"  For  the  present  that  is  all." 

The  man  saluted  and  retired. 

"  Is  that  man  a  German,  or  a ?  "  Ruxton  began  as 

the  man  disappeared. 

"  He  is  a  Pole."  Then  the  Prince  clasped  his  fingers 
and  bent  them  back,  cracking  the  joints.  It  was  an  ex- 
pression of  intense  excitement.  He  laughed.  "  He  hates 
Prussians,  and  Von  Salzinger  is  a  Prussian." 

"  The  matter  is  going  to  be  serious?"  Ruxton's  eyes 
searched  the  smiling  face  of  the  Prince. 

"  I  cannot  tell — yet.  Von  Salzinger  has  given  an 
order  that  is  about  to  be  disobeyed.  Von  Salzinger 
is  a  powerful  force  in  Borga.  Even  I  have  no  right  to 
disobey  the  military  governor's  regulations  here,  nor  to 
defy  openly  his  orders.  Von  Salzinger  may  do  any- 
thing. Remember,  he  is  a  Prussian.  One  thing  is  cer- 
tain, he  does  not  get  you  before  his  inquisitors.  No,  I 
cannot  tell  what  he  will  do.  Ah,  here  comes  our  visitor. 
Give  me  the  cylinders." 

The  Prince  possessed  himself  of  the  cylinders  and  was 
closely  contemplating  them  when  the  youthful  Prussian 
officer  appeared  in  the  doorway.  He  was  so  intent  upon 
his  study  of  them,  tenderly  handling  their  shining  cases 
with  his  long  fingers,  that  he  did  not  appear  to  observe 


THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP  123 

the  officer's  entrance,  and,  in  gently  modulated  voice, 
continued  to  address  his  pretended  nephew. 

"  You  have,  my  dear  Leder,  committed  the  great  fault 
which  belongs  to  your  age.  Practice  and  Principle 
must  ever  go  hand  in  hand.  I  do  not  know  yet,  of 
course,  but  I  fear  you  have  let  Principle  get  his  nose 
in  front  of  Practice.  It  may  mean  much  serious  delay. 
We  will  take  these,  and  have  them  more  fully  tested, 
and  then " 

He  broke  off  and  looked  up  as  an  impatient  clearing 
of  the  throat  announced  the  presence  of  the  officer.  In  a 
moment  the  cylinders  were  deposited  on  the  table,  and  the 
big  eyes  were  beaming  simple  kindliness  upon  the  visitor. 

"  You  have  an  order  from  the  Captain-General,  is  it 
not  so  ?  "  he  enquired  blandly. 

The  young  Prussian  pulled  himself  up  with  due  regard 
for  his  office.  Just  for  a  moment  his  conceit  had  been  a 
little  overborne  by  the  presence  of  the  Prince. 

"  Yes,  Excellency,"  he  said,  with  a  sharp  return  to  his 
military  habit.  "  It  is  an  imperative  order  that  I  conduct, 
without  delay,  Herr  Leder  von  Bersac " 

"  Ach,  so  1 "  exclaimed  the  Prince,  his  eyes  suddenly 
flashing  and  his  whole  manner  absorbing  all  his  recent 
blandness  in  a  quick-rising  heat.  "  Does  the  Captain- 
General  think  he  can  give  his  orders  to  men  under  the 
command  of  Prince  von  Hertzwohl  ?  Your  Captain- 
General  has  yet  to  learn.  And  those  who  serve  under 
him  also.  My  nephew,  Herr  Leder  von  Bersac,  is  under 
the  command  of  his  uncle,  and  no  one  else.  Your  Cap- 
tain-General knows  that  as  well  as  I.  The  regulations 
of  Borga  are  no  concern  of  mine.  But  when  I  visit  this 
pestilential  place  its  manners  are.  Convey  to  your  Cap- 


124  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

tain-General  that  the  manners  of  Borga  had  best  be  im- 
proved. I  shall  not  visit  here  again  until  I  have  seen 
that  they  are.  You  can  go  back,  and  tell  him  that  I 
leave  at  once,  and  that  Herr  Leder  von  Bersac  has  no 
time  to  comply  with  any  order  issued  by  the  military 
governor  of  Borga." 

The  tide  of  the  Prince's  anger  was  too  swift  for  the 
youthful  Prussian's  armor  of  official  effrontery.  He 
came  near  to  withering  before  it.  It  was  only  the  under- 
standing of  Von  Salzinger's  supreme  command  in  Borga 
that  helped  him  to  weather  the  storm.  He  waited  one 
moment  to  see  if  anything  further  was  to  be  said,  then, 
under  the  stern  eyes  of  the  Prince,  he  saluted  and  de- 
parted, darting  up  the  companionway  with  hurried  steps, 
and  made  his  way  ashore  to  the  telephone  station  on  the 
landing-stage. 

Had  he  paused  to  glance  about  him  he  might  have 
been  surprised  that  the  Prince's  threat  had  been  so 
promptly  put  into  execution.  As  it  was  he  did  not 
notice  even  that  the  gangway  followed  him  ashore, 
almost  immediately  in  his  wake.  But  these  things, 
however  they  might  have  surprised  him,  were  no  real 
concern  of  his.  It  was  for  him  to  report  promptly  to 
the  Captain-General,  and  make  matters  as  safe  as  he 
could  for  himself. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  telephone  station  the  vessel 
was  gliding  silently  from  the  landing-stage. 

The  throb  of  the  powerful  engines  told  Ruxton  Farlow 
all  he  wished  to  know.  He  sighed  quietly,  and  it  was  the 
outward  expression  of  the  relaxing  of  his  feelings. 

He  was  smiling  into  the  face  of  the  man  before  him. 


THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP  125 

"Well?"  he  said. 

But  the  Prince  had  become  curiously  abstracted.  His 
eyes  were  on  the  cylinders  in  an  unseeing  contemplation. 
Ruxton  watched  him  thoughtfully  after  his  monosyllabic 
interrogatory.  He  was  filled  with  not  a  little  wonder  at 
the  alertness  of  this  man's  mentality  in  a  moment  of  crisis. 
It  was  an  almost  confounding  realization  in  the  midst  of 
his  early  impressions  of  him.  For  himself  he  could  not 
see  ahead  with  any  degree  of  certainty.  The  Prince  had 
committed  himself  to  a  dangerous  course  in  defying  the 
German  Government's  representative  in  the  place,  which 
was  the  most  treasured  secret  in  the  Teuton  heart.  He 
judged  that  certain  pursuit  would  follow,  or  at  least  armed 
interference.  Even  with  a  power  such  as  the  Prince's,  at 
whatever  cost,  Von  Salzinger  must  enforce  obedience  to 
his  order,  or 

The  Prince  broke  in  upon  his  reflections. 

"  It  is  good  to  defy  a — Prussian.  It  did  me  much  good. 
But  Borga  is  his  nursery.  He  is  its  nurse.  He  must  act. 

I  wonder Ach,  if  he  should  try  to  stop  us  I  will  see 

him  in  the  deepest  pit  of  hell." 

He  threw  up  his  hands  with  his  final  explosion  and  in  an 
action  of  almost  schoolboyish  delight.  Then  he  smiled  into 
the  Englishman's  face,  half  questioningly,  half  eagerly. 

"  Between  us  and  the  open  sea  lie  a  hundred  batteries 
of  heavy,  compressed-air  guns.  One  shell  from  any  of 
those  guns  could  send  us  to  the  bottom,  if  it  caught  us  at 
the  surface.  Then  there  is  the  mined  channel.  We  are 
without  a  pilot.  If  we  submerge  the  mines  are  thicker 
still.  For  myself  and  my  vessel  I  do  not  care.  For 
you?" 

Ruxton  shrugged. 


126  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  If  I  am  caught  and  questioned  I  shall  be  shot.  And 
you,  too,  for  bringing  me  here.  A  gambler's  chance  is 
always  attractive,  even  to  a  man  who  never  gambles." 

"  Then  we  amuse  ourselves  at  the  expense  of  our  friend 
Von  Salzinger.  When  you  are  safe  in  England  I  will 
forestall  him  in  Berlin.  I  have  no  fear  when  you  are — 
safe.  Let  us  go  on  deck." 

Five  minutes  later  they  were  standing  on  the  deck  of 
the  submersible.  They  were  standing  at  the  rail,  with 
the  conning-tower  intervening  between  them  and  the 
shore.  They  were  the  only  souls  visible  on  the  deck. 
The  captain  of  the  vessel  was  in  the  turret,  but  the  crew 
were  all  below. 

Ruxton  observed  this  at  once,  as  he  also  observed  that 
the  skylights  were  all  sealed  ready  for  submersion. 

"Your  captain  is  ready  for  any  emergency,"  he  said, 
indicating  these  preparations. 

But  the  Prince  was  searching  the  harbor  side  of  the 
shore  with  a  pair  of  powerful  glasses. 

Receiving  no  reply  Ruxton  permitted  his  attention  to 
wander  over  the  rapidly  passing  panorama.  They  were 
travelling  very  fast,  and  a  great  white  wake  was  thrown 
up  behind  them.  The  moored  shipping  dropped  astern 
of  them  at  an  almost  incredible  speed.  Ahead  he  could 
see  the  frowning  narrows  coming  towards  them  shrouded 
in  their  gloomy  hood  of  mist,  like  the  cowled  skulls  of 
skeleton  sentinels.  But  even  such  a  threat  was  preferable 
to  the  intolerable,  sulphurous  atmosphere  they  were  leav- 
ing behind. 

"There  is  no  movement  from  the  shore,"  said  the 
Prince  presently,  lowering  his  glasses.  Then  he  passed 
into  the  conning-tower  to  confer  with  his  chief  officer. 


THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP  127 

In  a  few  moments  he  returned. 

"  He  thinks  it  is  the  narrows  where  we  shall  be  held  up. 
He  says  the  Captain-General  would  not  believe  a  Pole 
would  face  that  mine-field.  Perhaps  it  is  that  he  is  right 
— Ludovic,  I  mean.  We  will  wait."  Then  he  rubbed  his 
hands  with  absurd  glee.  "  It  is  interesting." 

Ruxton  was  forced  to  smile.  A  delightful  sensation  of 
excitement  was  growing  within  him  again.  He  had  told 
himself  that  it  was  life  or  death,  but  the  full  significance 
of  his  assurance  had  been  powerless  to  possess  him.  He 
had  often  dreamed  of  Death.  He  had  imagined  it  in 
almost  every  form.  Nor,  in  his  dreams,  had  it  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  terrifying  him  any  more  than  the  thought  of  it 
did  now. 

No,  the  whole  situation  had  contrived  an  impersonal 
atmosphere  for  himself.  He  was  looking  on,  watching  a 
great  contest  between  the  brain  of  this  man,  his  courage 
and  soul,  against  the  military  rule  and  power  of  the 
Captain-General  Von  Salzinger. 

A  low  chuckling  laugh  broke  upon  his  reflections. 

"  It  is  an  illustration,"  said  the  Prince,  his  eyes  now 
steadily  fixed  upon  the  jaws  of  the  narrows  ahead. 

"  The  test  is  even  greater  than  I  could  have  hoped. 
We  are  an  unarmed  submersible  merchantman.  Such 
as  we  have  talked  of.  Here  we  are,  under  the  enemy's 
batteries — at  war.  We  are  carrying  butter,  hey  ?  Butter 
to  your  shores,  in  war  time,  in  face  of  a  blockade.  Your 
countrymen  are  starving  for — butter.  We  must  reach 
them,  and  so  save  your  country  from  destruction — with 
butter." 

"  Make  it  copper,  Prince,"  smiled  Ruxton. 

"  Ha  1     Yes,  copper.     It  is  very  necessary  in  war  time." 


128  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  Prince  smiled  in  appreciation.  Then  he  pointed 
ahead.  "  But  see,  Ludovic  is  right." 

He  was  indicating  a  dark  object  moving  towards  them 
on  the  water  out  of  the  gloomy  shadows  of  the  rocky 
sentries  of  the  narrows. 

"  It  is  a  patrol.  Under  normal  conditions  it  would 
gladly  pilot  us  through  the  mine-field.  Now  it  has  no 
such  friendly  desire." 

His  regard  became  less  smiling,  and  he  relapsed  into 
silence.  The  dead  flat  water  was  thrown  up  into  two 
great  wings  as  the  patrol  boat  pressed  on  towards  them. 

The  excitement  was  more  and  more  taking  possession 
of  the  Englishman.  His  faith  in  the  Polish  prince  was 
invincible. 

"  Shall  you  hear  what  he  has  to  say  ? "  he  enquired 
presently,  his  breathing  quickened  in  spite  of  an  outward 
calm. 

The  Prince  did  not  turn  to  answer,  but  his  slight  laugh 
was  full  of  quiet  confidence. 

"  Why  waste  time — valuable  time?  "  he  retorted  whim- 
sically. "  We  are  in  a  hurry  to  reach  the  open  sea.  No, 
I  do  not  listen  to  the  Captain-General's  commands  to 
me.  He  is  my  subordinate."  Then  he  added  with  the 
ingenuous  subtlety  of  a  schoolboy,  "  If  I  listened  to  the 
order  to  stop,  and  refused  to  obey,  I  should  commit  my- 
self in  the  eyes  of  Berlin.  No.  Come  below.  It  is 
time." 

The  patrol  boat  was  less  than  four  hundred  yards 
away,  and  travelling  at  a  great  pace.  It  was  almost 
within  hailing  distance.  Ruxton  could  even  count  the 
occupants  at  that  distance.  He  was  certain  there  were 
six  at  least.  The  other  patrol  boat  had  contained  only 


THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP  129 

two  officers  besides  the  engineer.  The  difference  was 
significant. 

He  followed  his  host  into  the  conning-tower  and  the 
steel  door  was  closed  with  a  slam  behind  them.  It 
automatically  sealed  itself. 

The  Prince's  voice  at  the  foot  of  the  steel  companion- 
ladder,  leading  up  to  the  chief  officer's  post,  rang  out 
sharply. 

"  Submerge ! " 

Then  he  turned  to  his  companion. 

"We  will  go  below.  We  will  go  forward,  where 
Ludovic  will  join  us  in  a  moment.  I  will  show  you  that 
which  I  hope  may  interest  you.  We  have  seen  the  last 
of  Von  Salzinger  and  his  command — for  some  time." 

The  nervous  energy  of  the  Prince  led  Ruxton  at  a 
rapid  rate.  They  passed  down  the  companion,  and, 
instead  of  entering  the  saloon,  turned  for'ard,  down  an 
alleyway  which  took  them  past  the  moving  steel  bowels 
of  the  vessel.  The  low  purr  of  the  great  Diesel  engines 
fell  pleasantly  upon  the  Englishman's  ears.  There  was 
no  hiss  of  steam.  There  was  none  of  the  clanging  of 
high-pressure  mechanism.  Just  a  steady,  powerful  throb 
which  vibrated  throughout  the  length  of  the  vessel's  hull, 
and  told  him  of  the  enormous  mechanical  effort  going  on. 

They  left  the  engine-rooms  behind  and  passed  by  the 
kitchens,  to  which  very  careful  and  elaborate  attention 
had  been  given.  They  left  the  quarters  of  the  crew, 
beautifully  kept  and  equipped,  and  without  a  sign  or 
suggestion  of  that  inferiority  of  appointment  which  is  to 
be  found  on  all  commercial  vessels.  They  passed  a 
number  of  carefully  disguised  bulkheads,  and  finally  came 
to  a  doorway  in  a  steel  bulkhead  which  seemed  to  mark 


130  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

the  limit  of  the  forward  end  of  the  vessel.  The  Prince 
withdrew  a  key  from  his  waistcoat  pocket.  He  opened 
the  door,  and  both  of  them  passed  within. 

Once  the  door  was  closed  he  slid  his  fingers  up  the 
steel  wall  in  the  darkness  and  pressed  a  switch.  In  a 
moment  the  room  was  flooded  with  light,  and  Ruxton 
blinked  under  its  power  as  he  gazed  about  him. 

The  Prince  was  standing  in  front  of  him  gazing  half 
smilingly  at  the  expression  of  his  face.  He  was  seeking 
that  surprise  which  to  his  simple  nature  meant  much 
satisfaction. 

Nor  was  he  disappointed.  The  moment  Ruxton  re- 
covered under  the  dazzling  glare  he  realized  that  that 
which  he  now  beheld  he  had  witnessed  in  the  vessel  at 
Borga,  whence  he  had  brought  the  cylinders.  This  was 
the  U-rays  room  of  the  private  submersible.  It  was — 
yes,  it  was  the  U-rays  in  active  operation. 

A  question  promptly  sprang  to  his  lips. 

"  But  the  light  is  perfect,"  he  said.  "  There  is  nothing 
wrong  with  it  here  ?  " 

He  moved  across  the  narrow  triangular  room  to  its 
apex,  where  a  great  disc  of  magnifying  glass,  like  a  port- 
hole, came  in  direct  contact  with  the  water  outside.  He 
stood  for  a  moment  peering  out  through  it.  The  water 
beyond  was  lit  with  a  ruddy  glow  that  left  it  extraordi- 
narily translucent.  It  was  powerful,  and  seemingly  the 
power  of  the  rays  extended  a  considerable  distance.  But 
though  the  water  was  thus  lit  it  was  not  rendered  trans- 
parent. For  some  silent  moments  he  gazed  out,  then  a 
shadow  moved  across  the  field  of  light — and  he  under- 
stood. 

He  turned  to  the  silent  inventor. 


THE  FRIENDLY  DEEP  131 

"  That  was  a  fish  which  crossed  our  bows,"  he  said,  in 
suppressed  tones  which  indicated  something  of  his  feel- 
ings. "  I  think — yes,  I  understand.  This  light  will  re- 
veal any  solid  body  ahead,  any  obstruction — mines,  rocks, 
any  danger  to  progress." 

The  Prince  beamed  his  satisfaction. 

"  The  submersible  need  no  longer  be  a  blind  lumbering 
monster,"  he  said.  "  The  mine-field  we  are  shortly  going  to 
pass  through  is  not  the  danger  you  may  have  anticipated. 
The  moment  we  have  passed  the  patrol  boat  we  shall  rise 
till  our  periscope  is  above  water.  Then  we  shall  move 
slowly.  The  helmsman  will  remain  in  the  conning-tower, 

but  he  will  be  controlled  from  here  by Ah,  here  is 

Captain  Ludovic." 

The  steel  door  was  thrust  open  and  the  chief  officer 
entered  the  room. 

"  The  mines  begin  about  sixty  fathoms  on,  Excel- 
lency," he  said,  with  a  brevity  and  utter  lack  of  anything 
approaching  the  servility  one  might  have  anticipated  in 
his  relation  to  so  powerful  a  master  as  the  Prince.  But 
Ruxton  understood.  The  Prince's  simple  nature  de- 
manded nothing  of  that  from  those  intimately  associated 
with  him.  Hence,  perhaps,  the  devotion  of  those  who 
served  him.  "  If  you  will  forgive,  Excellency,  I  will  take 
sole  charge  here." 

The  Prince  turned  to  his  guest  with  a  laugh  of  genial 
humor. 

"  Come,  my  friend,  we  will  leave  the  excellent  Ludovic 
to  his  work.  We  are  dismissed."  Then  he  turned  to 
the  captain,  who  had  taken  his  place  at  the  forward  port- 
hole, and  had  adjusted  the  telephone  receivers  over  his 
ears.  He  raised  his  voice  so  that  the  man  could  hear. 


132  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Once  clear  of  the  last  batteries,  Ludovic,  we  travel  on 
the  surface,"  he  said. 

"Yes,    Excellency."     The   man   made   no   attempt  to 
turn  from  his  watch  upon  the  ruddy  field  ahead. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  FUTURE 

ON  the  way  back  to  the  saloon  a  further  truth  began 
to  dawn  upon  Ruxton.  Nor  did  he  lose  a  moment  in 
challenging  his  host  when  they  reached  the  luxurious 
apartment. 

"  You  have  brought  those  cylinders  away.  May  I  ask 
why?"  he  enquired. 

The  Prince  had  seated  himself,  and  was  in  the  act  of 
lighting  a  cigar.  He  desisted,  and  held  his  case  out 
towards  his  guest  Ruxton  helped  himself  and  waited. 

The  other  stared  thoughtfully  at  the  cigar  which  re- 
mained poised  in  his  lean  fingers.  Then  he  raised  his 
brilliant  eyes,  and  the  Englishman  realized  that  the  mo- 
ment of  lightness,  of  almost  schoolboyish  delight  at  the 
sense  of  danger  had  entirely  passed.  The  eyes  shone 
passionately,  and  reminded  him  sharply  of  the  expressive 
eyes  of  the  woman  who  had  appealed  for  humanity  with 
him  on  the  brink  of  the  Yorkshire  cliffs. 

"  Why  ?  Because  I  have  convinced  you  of  my  submer- 
sible. Because  for  that  reason  I  have  determined  to 
deprive  the  German  Government  of  the  use  of  my  U-rays 
for  an  indefinite  period.  Perhaps  forever.  Listen,  there 
is  only  one  man  knows  that  I  have  an  installation  of  that 
light  on  my  ship  besides  ourselves,  and  that  man  is — 
Ludovic.  I  have  installed  it  with  my  own  hands.  The 
installation  on  the  submersible  dreadnought  which  you 


134  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

saw  was  the  first  effort  in  that  direction,  and  the  Govern- 
ment believe  it  to  be  purely  experimental.  Well,  the 
experiment  has — failed.  That  is  all."  He  shrugged. 

"  But  you  will  be  forced  to  try  again." 

"  And  it  will  fail — again.  Ach,  so !  I  would  rather 
unship  my  plant,  and  fling  my  models  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sea,  where  they  may  help  to  light  up  the  world  of 
crabs,  than  that  my  Government  should  acquire  one 
single  added  threat  against  humanity." 

The  next  few  moments  were  silently  occupied  in  light- 
ing their  cigars.  Ruxton  had  no  words  with  which  to 
answer  him.  He  was  thinking  deeply,  comparing  this 
man's  attitude  towards  the  country  which  claimed  him 
with  his  own  feelings  for  his  island  home.  He  wondered 
what  his  attitude  would  have  been  had  their  positions 
been  reversed  ;  if  he,  as  an  Englishman,  had  been  such  a 
power,  through  his  discoveries,  for  aiding  his  country. 
To  his  shame  he  was  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  this 
white-haired  Pole  was  a  greater  man  than  he  could  ever 
hope  to  be. 

The  difference  between  them  lay  in  the  difference 
between  a  perfervid  patriotism,  and  the  Prince's  over- 
whelming love  of  humanity  inspired  by  the  abyss  of 
horror  into  which  a  blind  devotion  to  his  country  had 
flung  him.  This  man  had  passed  the  great  dividing  line 
where  the  uplifted  spirit  renounces  the  claims  of  earthly 
passion  in  favor  of  the  call  of  the  voice  of  the  soul.  The 
cause  of  humanity  now  dominated  every  other  emotion. 
Somehow  his  own  fervor  of  patriotism  suffered  severely 
by  the  comparison,  and  so  he  found  himself  with  no 
words  in  which  to  answer. 

The  old  man  rose  from  his  chair  and  passed  into  his 


THE  FUTURE  135 

private  stateroom.  A  few  moments  later  he  returned 
with  two  rolls  of  papers,  neatly  secured  by  tapes  and  seals. 

He  had  closed  the  door.  He  was  about  to  cross  over 
to  his  guest.  But  in  a  moment  he  was  held  rigid  where 
he  stood.  A  dull  boom  roared  out  somewhere  overhead 
and  vibrated  down  the  entire  length  of  the  vessel. 

His  eyes  were  wide  and  attentive.  But  there  was  no 
fear  in  them.  Ruxton  started  up  from  the  lounge  on 
which  he  had  been  sitting.  A  thrilling  excitement  shone 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Is  it  a — mine  ?  "  he  cried  sharply. 

The  Prince  shook  his  head. 

"  There  would  be  nothing  of  us  left  at  this  moment," 
he  said.  "  Wait !  You  can  feel  the  steady  throb  of  the 
engines.  No,  it  was  a  gun.  It  was  a  bursting  shell  from 
one  of  the  silent  guns.  They  can  see  our  periscope,  and 
are  firing  across  us — to  heave  to.  Hark !  There  goes 
another." 

Again  came  a  terrific  detonation.  But  the  vessel 
ploughed  on. 

"  Presently  they  will  fire  to  hit  our  periscope  and  make 
us  rise  to  the  surface.  Von  Salzinger  has  gone  further 
than  I  had  dared  to  hope." 

"Hope?" 

"  He  will  pay  for  this  with  his  position." 

"  But  if  they  hit  our  periscope  ?  " 

The  Prince  shrugged. 

"  It  will  make  no  difference.  We  shall  not  rise  till  it 
suits  us.  We  have  the  light.  Already  we  must  be  nearly 
through  the  mine-field.  Once  we  are  through  the  mines 
Ludovic  could  make  the  journey  seawards  blindfold." 

The   Prince   crossed   over   to  his  chair,  and  laid  the 


136  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

sealed  rolls  on  the  table  beside  him.  He  did  not  speak. 
He  was  obviously  listening. 

Presently  another  sharp  explosion  sounded  overhead, 
and  his  eyes  lit. 

"Ah,  I  thought  Von  Salzinger  would  not  resist  it. 
You  see,  he  is  a  Prussian."  He  smiled,  but  his  eyes  had 
lost  their  humor.  "That  was  shrapnel,"  he  went  on. 
"  Its  bursting  is  unmistakable.  But  he  will  not  hit  the 
periscope." 

Again  silence  fell  between  them,  and  both  smoked  on 
with  every  sense  alert.  There  was  another  explosion 
overhead.  Then  another  and  another.  Still  the  vibra- 
tions of  the  engines  continued.  The  two  waited  some 
time  for  the  next  explosion,  but  it  was  delayed.  At  last 
the  Prince  rose  from  his  seat  and  passed  out  of  the  room. 
He  was  away  for  some  moments.  During  his  absence 
Ruxton  never  stirred  a  muscle.  His  cigar  had  gone  out. 
He  was  still  listening  acutely. 

Finally  the  Prince  returned,  and  Ruxton's  eyes  put 
their  question  plainly. 

"  We  have  completely  passed  the  mine-field.  We  are 
also  completely  submerged,"  said  the  Prince.  "  We  need 
no  longer  concern  ourselves  with  Von  Salzinger." 

Ruxton  drew  a  deep  breath.  He  relit  his  cigar,  while 
the  other  seemed  to  dismiss  the  subject  from  his  mind 
entirely.  The  excitement  of  the  escape  had  passed,  and 
with  the  passing  of  it,  it  had  robbed  him  of  all  lightness. 
His  large  eyes  darkened,  and  a  frowning  of  his  bushy 
brows  gave  him  an  appearance  of  depression. 

Ruxton,  watching  him,  wondered  what  next  was  to  be 
the  display  of  this  extraordinary  creature.  Nor  had  he 
long  to  wait. 


THE  FUTURE  137 

"  You  have  seen  at — Borga  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  More — than  I  was  prepared  for,  in  spite  of  all  you  and 
the  Princess  had  told  me." 

"  Yes.     Tell  me.     Tell  me  about  it." 

Ruxton  drew  his  feet  up  on  the  lounge.  His  dark  eyes 
were  on  the  white-whiskered  face  of  his  host,  but  they  had 
become  deeply  introspective. 

"  I  wonder  how  many  years  we  have  before  it — comes." 

"  Perhaps— ten." 

"  Ten  ?  Yes,  I  suppose  so."  The  Englishman's  eyes 
were  full  of  a  deep  pondering.  "  And  then  war.  War 
upon  Britain  alone.  The  rest  of  the  world  cajoled  into 
quiescence  through  self-interest,  and  the  memory  of  the 
horrors  of  the  late  war.  Yes,  a  sudden  and  swift  descent 
upon  our  overseas  commerce.  The  wholesale  wrecking, 
and  terrorizing  by  slaughter.  Every  ship  bound  for  our 
shores  must  be  captured  or  sunk.  This  must  occur 
simultaneously  in  all  parts  of  the  world.  Then  the  com- 
plete ringing  round  of  these  islands,  and  a  naval  warfare 
against  us  with  this  new  type  of  battle-ship,  the  submer- 
sible dreadnought.  From  a  naval  point  of  view,  with  our 
own  submarine  vessels,  doubtless  it  is  calculated  that  we 
might  hold  our  own.  But  meanwhile  our  islands  would 
be  starved,  and  our  country  brought  to  its  knees.  All 
our  defences  against  submarine  attack  in  the  past  would 
be  rendered  useless  by  the  U-rays  light.  It  is  certainly  a 
picture  to  intimidate  the  stoutest  heart  And  then  ? 
What  lies  behind  this  ?  I  can  see  it  in  your  eyes  that — 
there  is  more  behind  it  all." 

The  Prince  leant  forward  with  that  swiftness  of  action 
which  indicates  a  tumultuous  stream  of  thought  surging 
to  find  expression. 


138  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Ach,  that  is  so.  That  is  all  so.  But  you  are  right. 
There  is  more — much  more,"  he  cried,  his  lean  hands 
tenaciously  grasping  the  polished  arms  of  his  chair. 
"  You  have  all  talked  world  domination.  You  have  all 
vaguely  known  that  that  was  Germany's  object  in  the 
last  war,  and  in  which  she  failed.  No  one  knows  better 
than  Germany  why  she  failed.  It  does  not  need  the 
Englishman  to  remind  her.  Since  then  she  has  changed 
her  whole  plans,  and  now  they  are  more  far-reaching  than 
ever.  She  has  abandoned  Napoleonic  for  the  ancient 
Roman  methods.  Germany,  once  she  has  wrested  sea 
power  from  Britain,  will  live  in  a  state  of  war  with  the 
whole  world.  The  procedure  will  be  an  attack  upon,  and 
annexation  of,  every  small  state  in  turn.  And  each  small 
state  so  acquired  will  pay  its  own  bill.  She  will  con- 
solidate each  territory  as  she  possesses  it,  and  so  long  as 
her  war  methods  continue  they  will  be  bled  white.  So 
she  will  build  up  in  every  corner  of  the  earth,  and  in  the 
process  she  will  prosper  exceedingly,  |s  did  the  great 
Roman  Empire.  And  throughout  this  reign  of  terror, 
while  the  outward  seeming  of  civilization  will  increase  a 
hundredfold,  all  spiritual  life,  and  the  culture  of  the 
human  soul,  will  go  back  some  two  thousand  years.  We 
are  this  moment  at  the  world's  greatest  crisis.  One  slip, 
one  wrong  move,  and  the  great  structure  of  the  human 
soul  will  fall  with  a  crash  to  the  bowels  of  an  abyss  two 
thousand  years  deep.  For  the  moment  every  seeing  eye 
looks  to  Britain.  For  the  moment,  at  this  terrible  crisis, 
Britain  alone  stands  a  bulwark  that  can  save  the  human 
race  from  its  tragedy.  Salvation  lies  in  the  supremacy  of 
the  seas,  which,  thank  God,  is  still  in  the  keeping  of  your 
country.  Britain  must  keep  it.  She  must  hold  to  it  with 


THE  FUTURE  139 

all  the  bulldog  tenacity  for  which  she  is  famous.  She 
must  keep  that  mastery,  not  alone  for  her  own  security, 
but  for  the  security  of  the  whole  human  race  1 " 

The  man  ran  his  lean  fingers  through  his  shock  of  white 
hair.  And  the  action  was  an  expression  of  relief  from 
tension.  A  great  light  was  shining  in  his  eyes,  a  light 
which  told  Ruxton  Farlow  of  the  hot  soul  burning  within. 
He  knew,  had  known  before,  the  truth  of  all  this  man  had 
just  stated,  and  the  corroboration  of  his  own  knowledge, 
through  the  lips  of  another,  fell  with  added  weight. 

He  shifted  his  position.  The  urgency  of  all  that  had 
been  said,  all  he  had  witnessed,  now,  as  such  things  al- 
ways did,  drove  him  to  considerations  which  bore  actively 
upon  the  situation. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  without  emotion,  "  you  have  drawn  a 
true  picture.  A  picture  which  we,  who  care,  have  held  in 
our  imagination  ever  since  the  signing  of  that  disastrous 
peace.  Now  I  have  witnessed  for  myself  all  that  Germany 
is  preparing."  He  paused,  in  deep  thought,  and  the  other 
waited  anxiously. 

41  Let  us  consider  now  the  risks  and  dangers  of  the  mo- 
ment," Ruxton  went  on  again  presently.  He  glanced  up 
at  the  ceiling.  The  artificial  lights  were  still  shining. 
"  We  are  still  submerged.  Therefore  we  are  not  yet  in 
the  open  sea.  A  very  real  threat  still  hangs  over  us — 
over  you.  It  will  still  hang  over  you  when  I  am  safely 
landed  on  my  Yorkshire  coast." 

The  shining  light  of  the  Prince's  eyes  was  passing. 
His  interest  was  not  in  his  own  safety.  He  shrugged. 

"  There  is  no  danger  for  me.  With  Van  Salzinger  it  is 
different." 

"  But  you  have  broken  the  most  vital  of  Borga's  regu- 


140  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

lations.  Can  the  German  naval  authorities  overlook 
that?  Will  there  be  no  question?  Will  you  not  be 
forced  to  produce  your  nephew  to  be  confronted  by — 
Von  Salzinger?" 

A  look  of  doubt  crept  into  the  old  man's  eyes,  and 
Ruxton  knew  that  his  warning  had  struck  home. 

"That  possibility  had  not  occurred  to  me,"  he  said, 
with  undisturbed  simplicity. 

For  some  moments  Ruxton  watched  him  in  silence. 

"How  will  you  meet — that?"  he  demanded  at  last. 

The  man  shrugged  again. 

"  I  must  think  of  it.     There  will  be  a  way." 

"  Just  so.  There  is  a  way,  Prince,"  said  Ruxton,  sud- 
denly bestirring  himself.  "  It  is  simple.  Your  real  cause 
is  the  cause  of  humanity.  Why  not  defy  the  claims  of 
Germany  ?  Abandon  her,  and  yield  your  life  to  the  cause 
so  dear  to  your  heart.  Will  you  not  land  on  the  York- 
shire coast  with  me  ?  A  great  welcome  will  await  you. 
And — your  daughter — she  is  in  England  already." 

Having  launched  his  appeal,  Ruxton  sat  back  in  his 
seat  and  waited  with  a  tense  patience.  Vast  affairs  were 
hanging  in  the  balance,  waiting  upon  the  decision  of  this 
man,  who  was  perhaps  the  mechanical  genius  of  the  coun- 
try which  claimed  him. 

After  a  while  the  Prince  slowly  shook  his  head.  And 
the  lack  of  impulse  he  displayed  warned  the  other  that 
his  decision  was  irrevocable. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  To  do  so  would  be  to  destroy  all  the 
possibilities  of  the  future  for  our  cause.  You  will  see.  It 
is  equally  simple.  Were  I  to  abandon  my  work  for  Ger- 
many in  the  manner  you  suggest,  they  would  know  that 
I  had  betrayed  them — and  their  secrets.  All  we  have 


THE  FUTURE  141 

gained  by  the  knowledge  of  their  secrets  would  be  lost. 
Then — though  it  matters  nothing  to  me,  for  I  do  not 
value  it  beyond  the  help  I  can  give  to  humanity — my  life 
would  be  destroyed  as  sure  as  day  follows  night.  No.  I 
go  back  to  my  shops,  and  to  my  work.  I  will  meet  every 
emergency  as  it  arises.  Should  I  fall  to  this  man  Von 
Salzinger  I  can  always  beat  the  authorities,  and — make 
my  escape." 

"  You  are  sure  ?  " 

"  Ach,  yes." 

"  Then  prepare  from  this  moment  for  that  escape.  You 
will  have  to  make  it.  Of  that  I  am  equally — sure." 

Ruxton's  eyes  were  smiling,  but  without  lightness. 
And  the  two  men  smiled  into  each  other's  eyes  for  some 
silent  moments. 

The  Prince  was  the  first  to  break  the  spell.  It  was 
with  a  glance  up  at  the  skylight  overhead. 

"See,"  he  cried,  not  without  satisfaction.  "There 
comes  the  daylight.  We  are  on  the  high  seas.  All 
danger  is  past." 

"  Immediate  danger,"  corrected  Ruxton. 

"  Ach,  so.     Yes,  '  immediate.'  " 

The  old  man  turned  to  the  two  rolls  of  paper  on  the 
table  beside  him.  He  picked  them  up  and  fondled  them 
tenderly  with  his  long  fingers.  They  were  to  him  some- 
thing very  precious,  and — he  was  about  to  part  from 
them. 

Suddenly  he  held  them  out  towards  his  guest.  The 
shining  light  had  returned  to  his  eyes.  Again  had 
mounted  to  that  splendid  brain  the  hot  desire  to  speak 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 

"  Take  them !     Take   them  ! "    he  cried   passionately. 


142  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  They  are  my  children.  I  give  them  for  the  world. 
They  must  grow,  and  do  for  the  world  all  that  I  have 
dreamed  of  into  their  creation.  They  are  the  plans, 
drawn  and  written  in  English  by  my  own  hands.  No 
eyes  but  mine  have  seen  them,  and  there  are  no  others 
in  existence.  They  are  the  plans  of  the  U-rays  light, 
which,  by  taking  from  them  the  cylinders  you  brought 
away,  I  have  robbed  Germany  of  the  use  of,  and  the 
plans  of  this  submersible.  Safeguard  them  as  you  would 
your  life,  and  lose  not  a  moment  in  forcing  your  slow 
country  to  construct.  We  have  agreed  that  you  have 
ten  years,  and  in  ten  years  you  can  do  much,  if  you  do 
not  let  your  country  meanwhile  sleep." 

Ruxton  took  the  proffered  rolls  and  held  them  a  mo- 
ment while  his  eyes  rested  introspectively  upon  the  seals. 

"  And  the  price  ?  "  he  demanded,  in  a  firm  voice. 

"  The  price  !  Himmel,  the  price  ! "  The  Prince  threw 
up  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  dismay.  "  The  price  !  "  he 
repeated.  "  The  price  when  humanity  stands  at  the 
threshold  of  disaster  I  Ach !  You  are  a  true  English- 
man." 

He  rose  from  his  seat  and  moved  hurriedly  across  to 
his  stateroom.  At  the  door  he  paused  and  turned. 

"  There  is  no  price,"  he  said,  and  his  big  eyes  were 
alight  with  a  whimsical  smile. 


CHAPTER  XI 

BACK  AT  DORBY  TOWERS 

SIR  ANDREW  had  listened  patiently.  His  had  been 
the  grave  attitude  of  a  man  impressed  beyond  mere 
words  of  agreement  or  understanding.  His  reading 
glasses  had  been  thrust  aside.  His  grey  head  was  in- 
clined towards  his  clasped  hands,  and  his  broad  chin 
found  support  upon  them.  His  whole  poise  was  of  the 
closest  attention. 

"  It's  like  a — fairy-tale,"  he  said  at  last  as  Ruxton's 
story  came  to  an  end,  and  the  deep,  calm  tones  of  his 
voice  died  out. 

"  Or  a— nightmare  ?  " 

"  Ye-es." 

Sir  Andrew  swung  round  in  his  ample  library  chair 
and  faced  his  desk.  It  was  the  movement  of  a  man 
stirred  out  of  his  customary  calm. 

Ruxton  watched  his  father  closely  from  his  seat  on  the 
settle  under  the  mullioned  window.  He  was  seeking  the 
effect  of  his  story  upon  a  man  whom  he  knew  to  be  typic- 
ally British  at  heart.  He  had  seen  it  all,  had  experienced 
it  all.  His  father  had  not. 

Presently  Sir  Andrew  faced  him  again. 

"  Now  your — purpose,"  he  demanded,  with  the  air  of 
crisp  business.  "  You  would  set  out  to  revolutionize 
our  mercantile  marine  by  the  adoption  of  this — sub- 
mersible." 


144  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  As  rapidly  as  is  compatible  with  commercial  in- 
terests." 

"  You  mean  that  we  are  to  take  the  entire  risk  of  the 
success  of  this  new  departure  ?  " 

"  It  is  our  contribution  to  our  country's  cause." 

Then  Ruxton  drew  a  deep  breath.  He  sat  up,  and  his 
words  came  swiftly,  passionately. 

"  There  must  be  no  hesitation,  Dad.  The  submersible 
will  be  no  failure.  You  must  see  this  thing  with  my 
eyes,  you  must  understand  it  with  my  understanding. 
What  I  would  do  is  to  take  upon  ourselves  this  first 
burden  in  the  cause  of  patriotism.  We  must  take  the 
lead,  cost  us  what  it  may.  If  the  thing  is  a  failure,  then 
we  are  so  much  the  poorer  in  this  world's  goods,  but  we 
shall  have  wrought  honestly  in  the  cause  of  our  country. 
If  it  is  the  success  I  am  sure  of,  then  our  gain  is  twofold. 
But  even  if  the  latter  is  fulfilled  beyond  my  expectations 
it  is  not  going  to  be  the  easy  thing  it  looks.  Listen. 
Hertzwohl  believes  that  he  can  completely  cover  his 
tracks.  I  am  just  as  certain  that  he  cannot.  Germany 
will  discover  the  betrayal  of  her  secrets.  She  will  pun- 
ish the  offender  in  the  complete  manner  of  which  she  is 
so  great  a  mistress.  Then,  by  every  art  and  wile  of 
which  she  is  capable,  by  every  ruthless  persistent  pur- 
pose for  which  she  is  renowned,  she  will  strive  to  undo 
the  harm  already  achieved.  We  shall  not  be  left  to 
peaceful  construction,  if  my  understanding  of  the  situa- 
tion is  correct.  We  may  have  to  face  even  personal  at- 
tack upon  our  lives  and  upon  our  ship-yards.  It  is  with 
ideas  of  this  sort  running  through  my  mind  that  I  intend 
to  lay  the  whole  matter  before  the  Cabinet.  I  intend  to 
secure  Government  patronage  and  protection  for  this 


BACK  AT  DORBY  TOWERS  145 

scheme.  It  is  the  only  means  by  which  we  can  hope  to 
meet  the  attack  which  I  am  convinced  will  be  forthcom- 
ing from  our  country's  enemies.  It  is  a  lot  to  ask  of  you, 
Dad,  at  your  time  of  life.  Did  I  not  know  the  great 
strength  of  your  character,  and  the  extreme  loyalty  you 
possess  for  our  country,  I  should  have  shouldered  the 
whole  of  this  burden  myself.  As  it  is  I  know  that  with 
all  your  spirit  you  would  have  resented  such  a  course. 
Therefore  I  lay  it  before  you." 

The  older  man  made  no  attempt  at  agreement  or 
denial.  He  sat  drumming  his  fingers  upon  the  edge  of 
his  desk  while  his  keen  eyes  twinkled  in  his  boy's  direc- 
tion. He  understood  the  earnestness  of  the  idealist.  He 
saw  the  purpose  in  every  line  of  the  strong  young  face. 
He  appreciated  the  perfect  poise  of  the  keen,  fresh  in- 
tellect. And  for  the  moment  his  mind  went  back  to  the 
glimpse  of  Paradise  which  had  been  his  during  the  brief 
period  of  his  married  life.  This  son  of  his  was  that 
splendid  Russian  woman  over  again,  and  he  was  glad. 
But  when  he  spoke  his  manner  had  undergone  no 
change  from  his  crisp  business  practice. 

"  You  would  have  us  build ?  " 

"Two  vessels  of  three  thousand  tons  each  and  in- 
corporate them  with  our  coastwise  fleet.  Then  two 
deep-sea  craft  of  say  six  thousand  tons.  I  would  lay 
these  down  at  once.  Once  their  success  is  proved  the 
plans  can  be  laid  open  to  all  our  shipping  world. 
When  the  time  comes  the  Government  must  be  induced 
to  foster  the  new  construction  by  subsidy,  and  by  every 
other  means  in  its  power.  But  in  the  first  instance  we 
alone  must  bear  the  burden  and  all  it  involves.  If  dis- 
aster should  overtake  our  efforts  our  justification  re- 


146  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

mains.  The  days  of  Britain's  pre-war  ineptitude  are  so 
recent  that  even  an  active  progressive  failure  would  be 
a  matter  scarcely  to  be  deplored.  We  must  convince  the 
world  of  the  sincerity  of  our  convictions,  and,  to  do  that, 
we  must,  if  need  be,  risk  our  entire  fortune.  The  danger 
we  know  lies  ahead.  In  Britain  it  is  useless  to  tell  of  it. 
Only  our  own  actions  can  speak  and  carry  convictions. 
It  is  our  plain  and  simple  duty  to  put  our  all  into  this 
thing.  If  it  should  bring  us  disaster  or  even  simple 
ruin,  I  tell  you,  Dad,  I  would  rather  spend  the  rest  of 
my  life  in  honest  rags,  with  the  knowledge  that  my 
substance  has  been  absorbed  in  an  endeavor  to  help 
my  country,  than  claim  this  beautiful  home  of  ours  as 
a  view-point  from  which  to  watch  the  triumph  of  our 
country's  enemies." 

"  Ye-es." 

The  twinkling  eyes  of  Sir  Andrew  developed  a  smile 
upon  his  rugged  Yorkshire  features.  But  it  was  a  smile 
of  sympathy. 

"The  most  thoroughly  unbusinesslike  transaction  I 
was  ever  asked  to  countenance,"  he  observed  drily. 
"This  sort  of  thing,  as  you  have  suggested,  has  come 
rather  late  in  my  life.  But  it  only  makes  me  regret  my 
years.  But  tell  me  again  of  this  man.  His  genius,  his 
curious  attitude  of  mind  have  left  me  rather  breathless. 
This  sort  of  thing  in  a  German ?  " 

"  Pole.  There  is  not  a  drop  of  German  blood  in  his 
veins."  Ruxton  caught  eagerly  at  the  opportunity  of  the 
man's  defence.  "  His  attitude,  his  personality,  has  left 
you  no  more  breathless  than  it  has  left  me.  Dad,  I  have 
spent  nearly  a  week  in  his  company,  a  week  spent  in  con- 
tact with  the  greatest  mind  it  has  ever  been  my  good 


BACK  AT  DORBY  TOWERS  147 

fortune  to  encounter.  Nor  do  I  think  the  mind  is  greater 
than  the  soul.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  the  unthinking 
would  say.  They  would  think  and  speak  of  treachery. 
They  would  spurn  the  creature  who  could  betray  the 
country  which  claims  him,  the  country  which  has  be- 
stowed wealth  and  rank  upon  him.  They  would  talk  of 
loyalty  and  honor,  and  so,  in  their  shallow  way,  prove  the 
vile  thing  he  must  be.  But  I  tell  you  there  is  something 
terrible  in  the  demand  for  allegiance  to  a  country  whose 
sole  aim  is  conquest  in  every  phase  of  life ;  not  the  peace- 
ful conquest  which  springs  from  the  higher  intelligence 
and  purity  of  soul,  but  the  brutal  conquest  of  bloodshed, 
rapine,  and  terror.  The  man  who  can  detach  himself 
from  the  commonplace  understanding  of  honor,  the  man 
whose  courage  is  such  that  he  dares  to  outrage  such 
understanding  in  the  cause  of  humanity,  is  something  ap- 
proaching my  understanding  of  a  demi-god.  If  Prince 
von  Hertzwohl  is  a  traitor,  then  I  would  gladly  be  branded 
in  a  like  manner." 

The  father  permitted  nothing  of  the  effect  of  the  idealist's 
words  any  expression.  But  he  was  not  the  less  affected 
by  them.  However,  he  still  bent  all  his  mental  force  upon 
the  practical  side  of  the  situation. 

"  And  you  believe  this  man's  life  will  pay  for  his — for 
what  he  has  done  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain  of  it." 

Sir  Andrew  drew  a  deep  breath.     The  assurance  carried 
conviction. 

"  I  am  so  certain,"  Ruxton  added,  "  that  I  offered  him 
shelter  here." 

"  He  accepted  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary — he  refused." 


148  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

His  father's  manner  softened. 

"  His  courage  is  almost — tragic." 

"  Or  sublime." 

"  When  were  the  preparations  at  this  Borga  begun  ?  " 
Sir  Andrew  asked  a  moment  later. 

"  During  the  war."  Ruxton  gave  a  short  hard  laugh. 
"  Borga  was  purchased  to  be  used  as  an  alternative  base 
for  submarine  construction  in  case  Kiel  and  Cuxhaven 
should  be  raided  from  the  sea.  Germany,  even  then,  was 
looking  far,  far  ahead." 

"  Yes." 

For  a  few  silent  moments  Ruxton's  father  continued  to 
drum  his  fingers  upon  the  desk  before  him.  Then  his  keen 
eyes  were  raised  again  unsmilingly  to  his  son's  face. 

"  And  the  price  ?  What  price  does  he  demand  for  these 
plans  ?  "  he  enquired  sharply. 

Ruxton's  eyes  levelled  themselves  at  his  father's. 

"  There  is  no  price." 

The  old  man's  busy  fingers  became  suddenly  still. 

«  No— price  ?  " 

"  None.     They  are  a  gift — in  the  cause  of  humanity." 

Sir  Andrew  ran  his  strong  fingers  through  his  snowy 
hair.  A  whimsical  smile  began  to  possess  his  eyes. 

"  You  have  left  me  more  convinced  than  I  had  thought 
possible." 

"  Of  the  danger  ?  " 

"  No— of  the  man." 

"  I  am  glad." 

"  In  England,  as  elsewhere,  humanity  is  generally  helped 
at  our  neighbor's  expense." 

A  flash  of  disapproval  leapt  into  the  younger  man's 
eyes. 


BACK  AT  DORBY  TOWERS  149 

"  If  I  did  not  know  better,  Dad,  I  should  take  you 
for " 

"  A  cynic,"  broke  in  his  father.  Then  he  went  on  ex- 
plosively. "  Believe  me,  boy,  I  am  a  cynic  where  our  coun- 
try's splendid  character,  as  depicted  in  song  and  verse, 
and  the  ha'penny  press,  is  concerned.  On  the  subject  of 
our  national  characteristics  the  late  war  was  enough  to 
break  the  heart  of  the  veriest  optimist.  As  far  as  I  can 
see  only  two  things  stood  the  test  of  that  fire.  The 
fighting  power  of  our  people  and  our  naval  record.  For 
the  rest,  for  the  men  whose  duty  it  was  to  supply  the  moral 
support,  well " 

He  broke  off  and  leant  across  the  desk  and  picked  up 
the  telephone  receiver. 

"  Hello  1"  he  called.  "That  you,  McGrath  ?  Good. 

Have  you  examined  those ?  Yes.  Can  you  come 

up  and  talk  to  us  about  them  at  once  ?  Yes.  Very  well. 
Please  do  so." 

He  replaced  the  receiver  and  turned  about.  His  keen 
eyes  were  regarding  his  son  affectionately.  There  was 
pride  in  them,  too.  His  only  son  represented  the  whole 
of  his  life's  interests  and  ambitions. 

"  You  have  most  of  your  life  before  you.  Most  of  mine 
is  behind  me.  You,  my  boy,  have  been  brought  up,  as 
far  as  was  possible  to  me,  in  all  the  simple,  beautiful  be- 
liefs which  belonged  to  your  dear  mother.  I  was  brought 
up  to  the  hard  life  of  commercial  competition,  and  all  the 
moral  looseness  which  that  implies.  As  time  goes  on  I 
fear  many  of  your  splendid  temples  and  shrines  will  be 
shattered.  This  must  be  so,  and  it  is  right.  With  the 
passing  of  youth  you  will  gain  a  true  perspective  of 
human  worth.  And  when  that  perspective  is  attained,  if 


150  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

I  have  any  understanding  of  my  own  son,  he  will  not  be 
unduly  affected  by  it.  That  perspective  is  already  mine, 
I  believe,  and,  since  I  am  first  and  foremost  a  commercial 
man,  you  will  forgive  me  if  I  reduce  my  understanding  to 
mere  percentages.  With  exceptions,  of  course,  I  have 
found  that  human  nature's  sense  of  duty  is  made  up  of 
about  75  per  cent,  of  regard  for  itself,  24  per  cent,  of  re- 
gard for  the  duties  of  other  people  towards  life,  and  about 

i  per  cent,  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness.  So  that 

Ah,  here  is  McGrath." 

Sir  Andrew  turned  sharply  from  the  amused  gaze  of 
his  son  to  the  newcomer.  Ian  McGrath  was  a  powerfully 
built  Scot.  The  sense  of  strength  was  displayed  in  al- 
most every  detail  of  his  appearance.  In  his  short, 
bristling,  iron-grey  hair,  his  extremely  decided,  plain 
features ;  the  deep-set  eyes,  the  long  nose ;  the  hard 
mouth,  and  harder  chin  and  jaw.  Even  his  build  and  his 
gait  were  loud  in  their  assertion  of  his  normal  characteris- 
tics. The  broad,  lean  shoulders,  and  generally  loose- 
limbed  body  was  propelled  swiftly  and  alertly  at  all  times. 

He  had  thrust  his  way  in  without  heralding  his  com- 
ing, and  he  came  swiftly  towards  his  employer's  desk. 
His  position  as  chief  engineer  and  marine  architect  to  the 
Farlow,  Son  and  Farlow  Line  at  Dorby  left  him  upon  an 
extremely  intimate  footing  with  the  heads  of  the  firm. 

But  just  now  his  manner  was  even  more  confident  than 
usual.  There  was  a  light  almost  of  enthusiasm  in  his 
usually  cold  eyes.  He  paused  at  the  desk  and  deposited 
the  rolls  of  drawings  he  had  in  his  hands  upon  the  table. 
Then  his  eyes  turned  upon  the  recumbent  Ruxton,  and,  in 
a  moment,  came  back  almost  defiantly  to  his  white-headed 
chief. 


BACK  AT  DORBY  TOWERS  151 

"  They're  the  most  exquisitely  drawn  plans  I've  ever 
seen,  Sir  Andrew,"  he  said,  in  a  peculiarly  metallic  voice. 
"  If  I  believed  in  genius  I'd  say  they  are  the  work  of 
one." 

"  Sit  down,  McGrath,"  said  Sir  Andrew  pleasantly. 
"  We've  got  to  have  a  talk." 

Mr.  McGrath  promptly  deposited  himself  in  the  nearest 
chair,  and  again  his  questioning  eyes  passed  from  one  to 
the  other  of  his  employers. 

Sir  Andrew  drew  the  plans  towards  him  and  idly  turned 
over  the  sheets  and  tracings.  He  was  not  considering 
them.  He  was  thinking.  Thinking  rapidly,  as  was  his 
habit  when  engaged  upon  the  work  of  his  enterprise. 

"  This  boat  has  been  built  and  tested.  So  has  the  light. 
Mr.  Ruxton  has  travelled  in  a  two-thousand-ton  boat  of 
this  description  for  nearly  a  week.  He  has  witnessed  the 
light  in  operation." 

McGrath's  eyes  were  turned  half  enviously  upon  Rux- 
ton. There  was  something  bordering  upon  incredulity  in 
them,  too. 

"Then  they  are  not  some  crank's — dreaming?" 

"  No."  Sir  Andrew  raised  his  eyes  from  the  drawings, 
and  their  unemotional  light  held  the  engineer's. 

"  These  plans  are  for  a  two-thousand- ton  boat.  You 
will  put  your  department  on  them  and  increase  the  ton- 
nage to  three  thousand,  approximately.  When  you  have 
completed  the  plans  we  will  lay  down  the  keels  of  two 
vessels  of  that  size  and  proceed  with  construction  with  all 
speed,  and — in  absolute  secrecy.  So  imperative  is  the 
latter  that  no  precaution  is  too  great  to  take.  We  will 
go  into  other  matters  later  on." 

Sir     Andrew's    manner    was    a    dismissal,    and    the 


152  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

engineer  rose  to  depart.  He  was  accustomed  to  the 
ship-owner's  brevity,  and  it  suited  his  own  ideas  of  things. 
But  Ruxton  detained  him.  He,  too,  had  risen  from  his 
seat. 

"  One  moment,  McGrath,"  he  said  quickly.  "  There  is 
danger — personal  danger  in  this  work.  It  may  even  be  a 
matter  of  life  and  death  to — all  concerned.  We  shall 
probably  have  no  peaceful  time  over  this  thing.  I  expect 
that  every  means — even  force — will  be  used  to — wreck  us. 
It  is  only  right  to  tell  you.  Shall  you  be — willing  to 
undertake  it  in  the  circumstances  ?  " 

The  engineer  regarded  him  keenly.  Then  his  hard 
mouth  relaxed,  and  he  seemed  to  lick  his  lips. 

"  This  danger.     Where  does  it  come  from  ?  " 

"  Germany.     The  German  Government." 

The  Scot's  eyes  lit.  His  face  contorted,  and  he  gave  a 
short  hard  laugh. 

"  I'm  more  than  willing,"  he  said  briefly.  Then,  with  a 
curious  unconcern  for  the  warning,  he  turned  to  the  draw- 
ings and  gazed  down  at  them  affectionately.  "  Man,  but 
they're  beautiful.  Did  you — get  them,  Mr.  Ruxton  ?  " 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  implication. 

"  They  are  not  stolen,  McGrath,"  said  Ruxton  quietly. 
"At  least  not  in  the  manner  you  are  thinking.  They 
were  given  to  us  by  the  inventor,  whose  property  they 
were.  But — they  represent  one  of  Germany's  most 
treasured  secrets." 

The  Scot  nodded. 

"  Fine,"  he  said,  and  the  ring  in  his  voice  left  the  two 
men  more  than  satisfied. 

Sir  Andrew  smiled  in  his  most  genial  fashion. 

"  Good,"  he  exclaimed.     "  I  shall  be  free  in  half  an 


BACK  AT  DORBY  TOWERS  153 

hour,  McGrath.  We'll  go  into  details  then.  Thank 
you." 

The  engineer  departed  as  hastily  as  he  had  appeared, 
and  Ruxton  dropped  back  into  his  seat.  His  father  was 
still  contemplating  the  plans. 

At  last  he  spoke  without  looking  up. 

"  We  are  committed  to  it,"  he  said.  Then :  "  I 
wonder." 

Ruxton  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  I  am  glad— glad." 

Then  he  moved  round  and  stood  gazing  out  through 
the  leaded  window,  and  his  thoughts  went  back  to  the 
beautiful  creature  who  on  that  one  memorable  night  upon 
his  beloved  Yorkshire  cliffs  had  first  opened  the  doors  of 
Life  to  him. 


CHAPTER  XII 

KUHLHAFEN 

THE  old  fortress  of  Kuhlhafen  stands  a  milestone  on  the 
path  of  Time.  Its  vast  walls  have  endured  and  survived 
the  ravages  of  a  thousand  storms  driving  in  off  the  sea. 
Its  gloomy  might  still  rears  itself  silhouetted  against  the 
grey  skies  of  the  Baltic  upon  its  lofty  setting  of  wood-clad 
hills.  Its  dull,  unlit  eyes  still  gaze  down  upon  the  broad 
waters  of  the  shallow,  silted  harbor  from  which  it  takes 
its  name.  And  with  it  all  it  haunts  the  primitive  mind  of 
the  simple  fisher  folk  beneath  its  shadows  with  the  grim 
romance  of  the  days  of  martial  barbarity  which  have  en- 
dured within  its  walls. 

No  one  would  have  associated  modern  significance 
with  this  survival  of  the  ages.  Yet  it  was  sedulously 
kept  in  repair.  It  still  retained  its  splendid  furnishings, 
and  all  the  relics  of  its  antiquity.  Furthermore,  all  the 
invention  of  modern  days  had  been  applied  to  add  to  its 
convenience.  And  it  was  solicitously  cared  for  by  the 
retainers  of  the  princely  house  to  which  it  belonged. 

The  peasants  of  Kuhlhafen  knew  every  detail  of  its 
history.  Its  martial  story  was  part  of  their  lives.  Oh, 
yes.  The  information  was  handed  down  from  father  to 
son,  and  was  told  with  all  that  care  for  fantastic  detail  in 
which  the  primitive  mind  never  fails  to  indulge  itself. 

The  owner  ?  Of  course.  It  was  Prince  Frederick 
von  Berger.  Did  they  not  have  to  pay  for  the  tenancy 


KUHLHAFEN  155 

of  their  miserable  hovels  to  his  steward,  who  lived  in  the 
castle  itself?  Oh,  yes.  He  was  a  great  man — a  very 
great  man.  This  was  only  one  of  his  estates,  and  one 
which  he  never  visited.  One  could  not  blame  him.  It 
was  scarcely  attractive  to  a  man  who  owned  a  palace  in 
Berlin.  Then  the  storming  of  the  cruel  Baltic,  which 
robbed  them  of  comrades  every  year.  Who  would  live 
on  its  bitter,  desolate  shores  unless  tied  there  by  the  stress 
of  existence  ?  No,  he  never  came,  they  would  tell  the 
enquirer  with  a  shrug.  A  man  who  enjoyed  the  friendly 
patronage  of  the  supreme  War  Lord  had  no  call  to  visit 
Kuhlhafen,  even  though  the  whole  of  the  countryside  be- 
longed to  him. 

This  was  the  spoken  attitude  of  the  people  towards 
their  over-lord.  Maybe,  deep  in  their  hearts,  other  feel- 
ings prevailed.  But  these  poor  folks  had  been  bred  to 
the  discipline  of  an  iron  Prussian  rule,  and  it  is  just  possi- 
ble that  they  had  no  power  to  think  or  feel  otherwise  than 
authority  taught  them. 

But  had  these  simple  fisher-folk  been  less  absorbed  in 
the  struggle  for  their  frugal  existence  ;  had  they  sufficient 
initiative  to  go  seek  out  information  for  themselves  ;  had 
they,  in  fact,  been  human  rather  than  Prussian  peasantry, 
they  might  have  discovered  that  their  over-lord  was  a 
different  person  from  the  ease-loving  creature  of  wealth 
they  so  fondly  supposed. 

They  would  indeed  have  found  that  it  was  by  no  means 
his  habit  to  spend  idle  days  in  the  gilded  courts  of  Berlin. 
On  the  contrary,  it  seemed  suspiciously  as  if  it  were  his 
lot  to  have  to  work  very  hard  indeed.  Work  which  even 
the  cleverest  amongst  the  fishers  could  never  have  hoped 
to  achieve. 


156  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Frederick  von  Berger  was  by  no  means  an  ordinary 
man.  Amongst  even  his  intimates  he  was  something  of 
an  enigma.  These  knew  that  he  occupied  an  exalted 
position  in  official  life.  They  knew  he  was  on  the  best 
of  terms  with  the  Supreme  War  Lord.  This  was  all 
patent  enough.  But  the  nature  of  his  work  was  doubt- 
ful. His  name  never  appeared  in  the  official  lists,  al- 
though it  was  understood  that  he  was  entitled  to  the  rank 
of  "  General "  placed  before  his  name.  Nor  did  he  at- 
tempt to  offer  the  least  enlightenment  on  the  subject. 

But  then  he  was  a  silent,  even  morose,  man.  He  was 
harsh  ;  a  man  devoid  of  any  lighter  side  to  his  nature. 
There  were  even  some  who  looked  upon  him  as  a  sort  of 
restless  evil  spirit  whom  it  was  very  much  best  to  avoid. 
But,  like  most  men  of  genuinely  strong  purpose,  public 
opinion  left  Frederick  von  Berger  cold.  He  came  and 
went  as  it  suited  him  quite  regardless  of  anything  but  his 
own  objects,  and  he  never  failed  to  avail  himself  of  every 
ounce  of  the  power  which  the  favor  of  the  German  mon- 
arch endowed  him  with. 

Kuhlhafen,  however,  was  not  kept  up  in  its  present 
condition  without  having  uses  in  its  princely  owner's 
scheme  of  things.  Although  the  humble  fisher-folk  re- 
mained in  ignorance  of  anything  that  went  on  within  its 
austere  precincts,  it  was  not  so  much  abandoned  by  their 
over-lord  as  they  believed. 

Thus  it  was  that,  one  night,  long  after  the  village  had 
been  wrapped  in  slumber,  a  powerful  automobile,  with 
blazing  head-lights,  flashed  through  its  single  main  street, 
and  passed  on  up  the  heights  towards  the  dour  silhouette 
above.  Later,  a  second  automobile  passed  over  the  same 
route.  And,  with  the  coming  of  the  second  car,  there  was 


KUHLHAFEN  157 

a  tumult  of  bustle  raised  amongst  the  resident  staff  at  the 
castle. 

Later  on  still,  there  was  even  a  stranger  happening. 
A  single  white  eye  flashed  out  its  searching  rays  from 
the  sea  and  settled  its  focus  upon  the  castle.  Then,  as 
though  satisfied  with  its  inspection,  it  turned  its  gaze  upon 
the  surface  of  the  restless  waters,  and  discovered  a  small 
motor-driven  boat  heading  towards  the  fishing-quay  of 
the  village.  Then,  as  though  in  answer  to  a  signal,  the 
blackness  of  the  castle  hill  was  lit  by  a  pair  of  eyes  less 
dazzling  than  the  eye  from  the  sea,  and  an  automobile 
made  its  way  towards  the  quay  for  which  the  little  sea- 
boat  was  heading. 

The  great  secret  council-chamber  of  Kuhlhafen  pos- 
sessed all  the  air  of  a  dungeon  or  crypt.  It  suggested 
no  other  for  its  original  purpose.  But  as  long  as  the 
present  house  had  ruled  within  its  walls  this  great  under- 
ground apartment  had  been  known  as  the  secret  council- 
chamber.  It  was  probably  the  oldest  portion  of  the  whole 
castle,  for  it  certainly  dated  back  to  the  days  somewhere  be- 
fore the  earliest  occupation  of  the  territory  by  the  Romans. 

One  or  two  significant  additions  had  been  made  since 
the  great  dungeon  had  been  converted  to  the  dignity  of 
a  council-chamber.  Down  the  length  of  the  low-roofed 
hall,  between  the  central  aisle  of  piers  supporting  it,  a  long 
iron-bound  oaken  table  filled  up  the  major  space.  This 
was  flanked  by  a  number  of  leather-seated  chairs  belonging 
to  a  similar  period,  and  of  equal  crudeness  of  manufacture. 

Table  and  chairs  formed  the  complete  furnishing  of 
this  dreary  apartment,  whose  only  beauty  lay  in  the 
simple  antiquity  of  its  architecture  and  the  character- 
istic chiselling  of  the  grey  piers  which  supported  its 


i$8  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

quartered  roof.  For  the  rest,  in  the  dim  recesses  be- 
yond the  rays  of  the  lamplight  on  the  table,  there  were 
to  be  found  the  wrought-iron  sconces  upon  the  walls, 
which  had  once  doubtless  served  to  support  the  light  of 
blazing  torches.  And  further,  still  more  remote  from  the 
light,  lost  in  the  dusky  corners,  were  an  array  of  instru- 
ments which  had  survived  the  years,  and  whose  evil  pur- 
pose there  could  be  no  mistaking. 

At  the  head  of  this  long  table  sat  a  man  with  almost 
snow-white  hair  and  a  moustache  of  similar  color,  care- 
fully trained  with  a  sharp,  upward  turning  of  the  pointed 
ends.  His  was  a  handsome  face  of  considerable  refine- 
ment. But  it  was  deeply  lined,  even  beyond  his  years, 
and  the  thin  lips,  drooping  markedly  downwards  at  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  gave  his  whole  expression  some- 
thing of  tragedy. 

On  his  right,  at  the  side  of  the  table,  the  single  lamp- 
light shining  full  upon  his  harsh  features,  sat  Frederick 
von  Berger,  the  absolute  antithesis  of  the  man  at  the 
head  of  the  table.  Here  was  cold  strength  and  even 
ruthlessness,  not  one  whit  less  than  the  harsh  surround- 
ings of  the  council-chamber  in  which  he  sat.  The  cold 
eyes  of  the  man  possessed  not  one  single  lurking  shadow 
of  warmth.  He  was  perhaps  forty-five,  and  the  iron 
mould  of  his  plain  features,  and  the  tremendous  air  of 
physical  strength  about  his  body,  all  added  to  the  im- 
pression that  here  was  the  direct  descendant,  untem- 
pered  with  the  blood  of  gentler  races,  of  those  savage 
forbears  who  had  wrested  place  and  power  for  them- 
selves from  amongst  their  people  by  the  sheer  weight 
of  the  sword. 

These  two  men  had  remained  seated  in  conference  for 


KUHLHAFEN  159 

some  time.  The  manner  of  the  man  at  the  head  of  the 
table  was  silent,  even  morose.  Frederick  von  Berger 
did  most  of  the  talking,  and  this  fact,  combined  with 
his  marked  air  of  deference,  gave  some  indication  that  his 
guest  was  some  one  of  extremely  unusual  importance. 

After  a  while  Von  Berger  rose  from  his  seat  and  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  shadowy  remoteness  of  the  room. 
His  companion  remained  seated,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair,  gazing  after  him  with  deep,  cold,  introspective 
eyes.  His  preoccupation  was  marked,  and  the  drawn 
lines  of  his  handsome  face  gave  some  clue  to  the  im- 
portance, and  even  urgency,  of  his  visit  to  these  out- 
lands  of  northern  Prussia. 

When  Von  Berger  returned  he  was  accompanied  by 
another,  who,  as  he  came  within  the  radiance  of  the 
lamp,  revealed  the  angular,  erect  figure  of  the  Captain- 
General  of  the  great  arsenal  of  Borga.  The  moment 
he  came  within  view  of  the  solitary  figure  at  the  head 
of  the  table  he  halted  abruptly  in  perfect  military  salu- 
tation. His  whole  attitude  underwent  a  marked  and 
deferential  change.  His  usual  air  of  arrogant  authority 
seemed  to  have  dropped  from  him  like  a  cloak.  It  was 
a  perfect  example  of  the  effect  of  the  Prussian  system. 

The  man  at  the  table  nodded  faintly.  It  was  the 
signal  Von  Berger  and  his  companion  awaited.  They 
approached.  Von  Berger  took  his  original  seat,  but 
Von  Salzinger  remained  standing. 

Von  Berger  waited.  Then  the  man  at  the  head  of  the 
table  bestirred  himself. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said  sharply.  And  at  once  the  Prince 
turned  upon  the  Captain-General. 

"  The    complaint    is    a    serious    one,    Herr    Captain- 


i5o  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

General.  It  is  so  serious,  and  affects  such  deep  inter- 
ests, that,  as  you  see,  it  is  deemed  inadvisable  to  place 
it  before  a  military  tribunal.  But  it  is  also  felt  that 
the  complaint  in  itself  is  not  all ;  that  there  is  other 
matter  of  even  greater  importance  lying  behind  it. 
Thus  you  have  been  summoned  to  make  your  explana- 
tions— here." 

The  cold  eyes  of  the  man  were  turned  from  Von 
Salzinger  upon  a  document  lying  on  the  table.  Just 
for  a  moment  his  hard  voice  ceased  from  stirring  the 
echoes  of  the  vaulted  chamber.  But  it  was  only  for  a 
moment.  The  next  he  was  reading  from  the  paper  be- 
fore him. 

"  It  appears  that  on  Prince  von  Hertzwohl's  last  visit 
to  Borga,  when  he  was  conveying  thither  his  relative, 
his  most  important  engineer,  for  the  rectification  of  cer- 
tain defects  in  his  new  light,  you  displayed  towards  him 
the  gratuitous  discourtesy  of  refusing  the  Prince's  guar- 
antee of  his  relative,  and  sought  to  submit  the  man  to 
the  interrogatory  customary  where  there  is  some  doubt 
of  a  visitor's  credentials.  The  Prince,  somewhat  natu- 
rally, refused  to  submit  to  such  an  indignity,  and  left  the 
arsenal.  Whereupon  you  persisted  in  your  attitude,  and 
even  went  so  far  as  to  endanger  the  Prince's  valuable  life 
by  opening  the  secret  batteries  upon  his  vessel — a  course 
which  was  utterly  unwarranted  in  view  of  the  Prince's 
identity  and  position.  It  is  necessary  that  you  should 
now  state  your  story  of  this  affair  without  any  reserva- 
tions." 

Von  Berger's  charge  was  coldly  formal.  It  was  also 
distinctly  threatening  in  its  final  pronouncement.  The 
arrogant  Von  Salzinger  was  bitterly  forced  to  the  re- 


THE  COMPLAINT  is  A  SERIOUS  ONE.' 


KUHLHAFEN  161 

flection  that  he  might  expect  small  enough  mercy  if  he 
failed  to  convince  with  his  explanation.  That  which 
disturbed  him  more,  however,  was  the  identity  of  at  least 
one  of  the  men  to  whom  he  must  explain.  He  had 
counted  on  a  military  tribunal,  where  his  rank  and  the 
nature  of  his  office  would  count.  He  felt  that  these 
things  would  by  no  means  count  here. 

But  he  dared  not  display  any  misgiving.  He  knew 
the  value  of  promptness  and  brevity,  with,  at  least,  one 
of  his  audience.  So  he  replied  — 

"  In  every  detail  the  complaint  is  accurately  outlined. 
But  it  avoids  entirely  Prince  von  Hertzwohl's  offence." 

"Offence?" 

The  interrogration  came  sharply  from  the  man  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  who  was  almost  lost  to  Von  Salzinger's 
view  behind  the  bulk  of  the  oil-lamp  which  lit  the  scene. 

"It  was  his  right,  just  as  it  would  have  been  your  right, 
sir,"  Von  Salzinger  replied  daringly,  "  to  submit  to  the 
discipline  of  the  place,  a  discipline  which  has  been  ordered 
by  those  who  have  a  right  to  order  such  things.  The 
complaint  must  come  after  obedience,  not  after  open 
defiance  of  Berlin's  most  imperative  orders.  That  is  the 
case  of  Prince  von  Hertzwohl.  I  could  not  have  acted 
otherwise  than  I  did  in  the  interests  of  our  greatest  of  all 
State  secrets." 

The  man  at  the  head  of  the  table  nodded  in  seeming 
approval  at  the  robust  vindication.  Von  Berger  gave  no 
sign.  His  eyes  never  left  the  angular  figure  of  the  Captain- 
General. 

"  But  you  threatened  his  life — by  your  action  in  the 
matter."  Von  Berger's  words  came  without  emotion. 
The  hard  eyes  were  unchanging. 


162  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  I  submit  that  it  had  been  better  for  the  State  had  I 
more  than  threatened  it." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

The  man  at  the  head  of  the  table  was  sitting  up.  His 
eyes  were  angrily  alight. 

For  a  second  Von  Salzinger  flinched  before  this  display. 
He  recovered  himself  swiftly,  however.  He  knew  he 
dared  not  lose  a  second  in  such  a  crisis. 

"  Your  pardon,  sir,  if  my  manner  should  seem  rough. 
I  feel  strongly.  If  a  man  in  Von  HertzwohPs  position 
refuses  to  obey  the  laws  he  is  fully  cognizant  of,  then,  I 
say,  he  has  reason — grave  reason  for  so  doing." 

"  You  imply  ?  " 

Again  it  was  the  question  of  the  man  at  the  head  of  the 
table. 

"  He  dared  not  have  his — nephew  interrogated,  sir." 

"  And  if  he  dared  not  ?  "     It  was  still  the  same  speaker. 

Von  Salzinger  shrugged. 

"  There  can  only  be  one  interpretation,  sir." 

"  You  mean — betrayal  of  Borga's  secrets." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  man  at  the  head  of  the  table  turned  to  Von  Berger 
with  a  smile  that  never  reached  his  eyes. 

"  Tell  him,"  he  said  imperiously. 

"  Your  contention  loses  all  its  apparent  force  in  the  light 
of — facts,"  said  Von  Berger  coldly.  "  Agents  have  been 
set  to  work  upon  the  matter.  From  the  moment  of  Von 
Hertz wohl's  complaint,  in  justice  to  you  as  Borga's  com- 
mandant, the  closest  secret  enquiries  have  been  made. 
On  the  occasion  of  Hertzwohl's  visit  to  your  command  his 
nephew  did  accompany  him.  This  nephew  is  certainly 
his  most  trusted  engineer,  and  is  the  actual  inventor  of 


KUHLHAFEN  163 

the  U-light.  There  is  no  shadow  of  doubt  about  these 
matters.  Your  suspicions  are  groundless  and  cannot  be 
accepted  in  your  defence." 

Von  Salzinger  was  taken  aback  at  the  concise  refuta- 
tion of  his  carefully  elaborated  suspicions.  He  began  to 
see  the  fabric  he  had  constructed  tumbling  about  his  ears. 
He  had  been  the  victim  of  his  own  spleen,  he  knew,  and 
his  suspicions  had  had  no  sound  foundation. 

He  stood  flushed  and  silent.  Then  the  man  at  the  head 
of  the  table  unconsciously  came  to  his  rescue. 

"  Show  him,"  he  briefly  ordered  Von  Berger. 

The  latter  picked  up  a  photograph — a  mere  rough  print 
— and  handed  it  to  the  troubled  Von  Salzinger. 

"  That  is  Herr  von  Bersac,  the  Prince's  nephew.  It  was 
taken  three  days  ago,  without  the  man  being  aware  of  it. 
That  is  the  man  who  visited  Borga  with  his  uncle." 

Von  Salzinger  had  taken  the  picture  in  his  hands,  and 
his  eager  eyes  scrutinized  it  carefully.  A  moment  later 
he  handed  it  back,  and  an  intense  look  of  triumph  had 
replaced  the  embarrassment  of  a  moment  before. 

"That  is  not  the  man  to  whom  Von  Hertzwohl  dis- 
played the  secrets  of  Borga.  It  is  not  the  man  I  sought  to 
have  interrogated.  The  man  who  posed  as  Hertzwohl's 
nephew  was  a  tall  man  of  magnificent  physique.  Not 
slim  like  that  youth.  He  was  a  man  of  nearly  forty,  with 
fair,  curling  hair  and  dark  eyes,  and  the  face  and  general 
figure  of  an — Englishman." 

"Englishman?" 

The  man  at  the  head  of  the  table  started  up.  The  pas- 
sionate hatred  flung  into  his  echo  of  the  other's  word  sent 
a  wave  of  rejoicing  through  Von  Salzinger's  heart. 

"  I  am  morally  certain,  sir,"  he  added. 


164  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Quite  abruptly  Von  Berger  had  become  completely 
thrust  into  the  background.  The  other  had  taken  entire 
possession  of  the  scene.  He  began  to  pace  the  stone- 
flagged  hall  with  hasty,  uneven  steps. 

"  If  I  thought  it  could  be  so,"  he  cried,  with  a  sudden 
wave  of  intemperate  heat.  "  Oh,  if  I  believed  it  were  1 " 
He  raised  one  clenched  fist  above  his  head  and  shook  it 
in  dire  threat.  The  other  arm  remained  unmoved  at  his 
side.  The  passionate  eyes  were  flashing  a  cruel,  almost 
insane  fire  as  he  strode  the  echoing  stones.  The  others 
were  held  in  appalled  silence  in  face  of  his  paroxysm. 

In  a  moment  he  turned  fiercely  upon  the  Captain-Gen- 
eral, standing  beyond  the  table.  There  was  no  longer 
any  dignity  or  restraint  in  him.  The  hectoring  nature  of 
the  man  was  caught  in  the  passion  of  the  moment,  and 
his  innate  brutality  must  find  an  object  upon  which  to  vent 
itself. 

"  I  tell  you,  if  the  secrets  of  Borga  have  been  betrayed 
there  shall  be  such  a  reckoning  as  shall  stagger  our  coun- 
try from  end  to  end.  From  the  highest  to  the  lowest 
those  responsible  shall  pay  to  the  uttermost.  Of  all  the 
world — an  Englishman  1  Gott  in  Himmel,  it  is  unthink- 
able ! " 

He  glared  for  a  silent  moment  into  the  abashed  face  of 
Von  Salzinger.  Then  he  went  on  more  calmly  — 

"  I  tell  you  you  are  wrong.  Damnably  wrong — some- 
how. Hertzwohl  dare  not  betray  us.  No  money  in  the 
world  would  buy  him.  We  have  proved  him  a  hundred 
times.  English  gold  to  buy  Hertzwohl  ?  "  He  laughed 
derisively,  but  there  was  no  conviction  in  his  manner. 
"  You  understand,  sir,  you  are  wrong — utterly  wrong. 
The  matter  shall  be  cleared  up.  You  shall  confront 


KUHLHAFEN  165 

Von  Hertzwohl.  And  if  lies  have  been  told,  God  help 
the  liars." 

The  two  men  stood  eye  to  eye  across  the  table.  Von 
Salzinger  had  recovered  under  stress  of  emergency. 

"  I  could  ask  no  better,  sir — if  it  were  in  the  best  in- 
terests of  the  secrets  of  Borga.  But  is  it  ?  I  could  give 
you  the  names  of  a  number  of  my  junior  officers  in 
Borga,  all  of  whom  encountered  this — nephew  of  Hertz- 
wohl. And  without  reference  to  me,  there  is  not  one  of 
them  but  would  deny  the  identity  of  that  nephew  they 
saw  in  Borga  with  the  identity  of  the  original  of  that 
picture.  If  the  liar  is  to  be  punished  I  have  no  fear,  sir. 
But  would  it  be  in  the  best  interests  of  Borga  to  deal 
hastily  with  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Explain  I "  The  man  went  back  to  his  seat  at  the 
head  of  the  table.  His  harsh  demand  warned  his  hear- 
ers of  the  storm  still  raging  within  him. 

But  Von  Berger  took  up  the  reply. 

"  I  see  the  Captain-General's  point,  sir,"  he  said.  "  If 
Hertzwohl  is  confronted  it  means  his  vindication  or  im- 
mediate punishment.  If  secrets  have  been  betrayed  such 
a  course  will  not  serve  us.  This  Englishman  Von  Salz- 
inger speaks  of  will  still  possess  them,  and — be  free  to 
act  upon  them.  We  must  recover  those  secrets,  or  make 
them  useless  to  their  possessors.  Then  we  can  deal  with 
those  responsible  for  Borga." 

Von  Salzinger  listened  to  the  cold  words  and  eagerly 
awaited  the  reply  of  the  man  at  the  head  of  the  table. 
But  none  was  forthcoming,  for  he  seemed  to  be  lost  in 
moody  contemplation  of  the  whole  affair.  Therefore  the 
Captain-General  seized  his  opportunity. 

"  That  is  how  I  see  it,  sir,"  he  said  eagerly.     "  I  sub- 


166  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

mit,  with  all  deference,  that  I  be  nominally  punished  as 
though  I  had  seriously  offended.  What  is  that  punish- 
ment ?  Degradation  ?  Degradation  and  retirement  from 
the  service  of  the  Fatherland.  It  will  satisfy  Hertzwohl, 
and  put  him  off  his  guard.  He  will  have  no  suspicion, 
and  I  shall  be  free  to  work.  If  I  am  placed  on  the 
Secret  Service  and  sent  to — England,  it  should  not  be 
impossible  to  discover  all  we  want  to  know  and  nul- 
lify the  effects  of  the  treachery.  Those  concerned 
can  be  silenced.  We  can  be  guided  by  developments. 
And " 

"  The  harm  is  done,  man  1  You  talk  of  nullifying.  You 
talk  like  a  fool.  There  can  be  no  undoing  the  harm  done." 

The  hoarse  passion  of  the  man  at  the  table  was  in 
every  word  he  spoke.  The  gleaming  eyes  were  full  of 
the  burning  fire  of  unrestrained  ferocity. 

But  the  cold  tones  of  Von  Berger  once  more  dropped 
like  ice  upon  a  kindling  fire. 

"  It  will  be  the  better  course,  sir,"  he  said.  "  We  do 
not  yet  know  the  full  position.  That  must  be  perfectly 
established  before  we  can  estimate  the  damage." 

But  the  other  seemed  absorbed  in  his  own  imagery  of 
the  matter. 

"  An  Englishman  !     Gott ! " 

Von  Berger  turned  abruptly  to  Von  Salzinger. 

"  Leave  us.  I  will  call  you  when  ready.  Remain 
within  call." 

The  authority  was  unmistakable.  The  Captain- 
General  might  have  been  the  veriest  conscript  for  the 
courtesy  displayed.  He  left  the  great  chamber  with 
no  outward  sign,  but  with  storm  sweeping  through 
his  heart 


KUHLHAFEN  167 

Beyond  the  door  he  reviewed  the  situation.  His  posi- 
tion was  by  no  means  enviable,  but  it  was  not  without 
possibilities.  He  realized  now  that  the  hand  of  Fate 
had  pointed  through  the  whole  affair.  He  knew  that 
he  had  had  no  suspicion  of  Hertzwohl  in  Borga.  A 
thought  of  treachery  had  never  entered  his  head. 
Hertzwohl  had  piqued  him.  He  had  seriously  offended 
him,  as,  long  ago,  this  same  man's  daughter  had  offended 
his  pride.  He  had  intended  merely  to  retaliate  through 
his  official  capacity,  and  now  through  these  trivial  petti- 
nesses a  deadly  plot  had  been  revealed.  He  had  an- 
swered the  summons  to  Kuhlhafen  intending  to  defend 
himself  by  casting  suspicion  upon  Hertzwohl,  and  his 
defence  had  turned  out  to  be  the  true  estimate  of  the 
matter.  Well 

But  his  reflections  were  cut  short  by  the  summons  to 
return  to  the  council-chamber.  Von  Berger  held  the 
iron-studded  door  for  him  to  enter,  and,  as  he  passed 
within,  he  closed  and  carefully  secured  it. 

Then  he  came  back  to  his  place  at  the  table,  and  his 
companion  signed  for  him  to  proceed. 

He  faced  the  waiting  officer. 

"  Captain-General  von  Salzinger,  you  are  to  be  de- 
graded from  your  rank  and  office.  You  will  be  relieved 
of  command  at  Borga  at  once.  You  will  then  report  to 
the  Foreign  Office,  where  you  will  receive  sealed  in- 
structions. On  receipt  of  these  instructions  you  will 
proceed  to  London  without  delay.  When  you  have 
completed  the  work  allotted  to  you  in  England — satis- 
factorily— you  will  receive  your  reinstatement.  That  is 
all," 


CHAPTER  XIII 

NEWS 

THE  atmosphere  of  the  little  study,  or  library,  or  what- 
ever it  was  called,  in  which  Ruxton  carried  on  the  private 
work  of  his  political  calling,  in  the  diminutive  house  in 
Smith  Square,  Westminster,  was  redolent  with  that  de- 
lightful suggestion  of  the  old  world  so  dear  to  the  col- 
lector's heart. 

Its  owner  was  a  collector  by  instinct  and  training.  He 
had  been  brought  up  to  the  study  of  old-world  art,  and 
had  learned  to  appreciate  the  beauties  of  all  those 
delicate  and  priceless  specimens  which  are  the  handicraft 
of  bygone  genius.  But  he  was  no  keeper  of  a  museum. 
His  little  home  in  the  purlieus  of  Westminster  was  a 
storehouse  of  beauty  and  charm.  Every  piece  of  furni- 
ture, every  tapestry,  every  rug,  every  metal  gem  was  full 
of  significance  and  harmony  with  its  setting.  Not  one 
detail  of  this  home  but  had  cost  him  hours  of  thought 
and  consideration,  and  the  result  was  all  he  asked,  a  per- 
fectly harmonious  whole,  a  creation  of  all  that  made  for 
undemonstrative  artistry  in  his  nature. 

Just  now  even  the  dying  early  autumn  sun  seemed 
graciously  disposed  towards  it.  It  was  peeping  in  through 
the  old  Georgian  windows  and  searching  out  the  mellow 
beauties  of  the  study.  Its  softened  tone  seemed  to  some- 
how belong  to  the  picture  it  discovered  within.  The 
delicate  tracery  of  the  deep,  ruddy  mahogany  furnishings, 
the  design  of  which  must  have  given  hours  of  delight  to 


NEWS  169 

the  artist  soul  of  Chippendale  ;  the  softened  tints  of  the 
ancient  Persian  rugs  upon  the  crazily  uneven  flooring ; 
the  exquisite  carving  of  the  oaken  panels  and  the  delicate 
pictures  of  the  hanging  tapestries  above  them, — all  these 
beauties  seemed  to  belong  to  a  time  of  softened  light 
which  comes  with  the  ageing  of  the  year. 

The  calm  delight  of  it  all  resisted  even  the  touch  of  a 
modern  figure  suddenly  appearing  in  its  midst.  Rux- 
ton's  modern  blue  serge  suit  and  soft  felt  hat  might  have 
been  an  anachronism,  but  it  gave  no  serious  offence. 
He  entered  the  room  and  glanced  swiftly  and  apprecia- 
tively upon  his  treasured  friends.  Then  he  laid  his  hat 
aside,  took  his  seat  at  his  desk  and  prepared  to  attend  to 
some  work  he  had  on  hand. 

But,  for  once,  inclination  proved  stronger  than  purpose. 
He  sat  back  in  the  ample  chair,  such  as  an  elderly 
ancestor  might  have  revelled  in,  lit  a  cigar,  and,  for 
some  idle  minutes,  all  effort  was  abandoned  in  favor  of 
the  relaxed  dreaming  of  a  brain  accustomed  to  high  pres- 
sure. 

It  was  the  late  afternoon  of  a  long  day  spent  in  endless 
interviews  in  the  world  of  the  officialdom  to  which  he  be- 
longed here  in  London.  But  his  interviews  had  had  little 
enough  to  do  with  the  more  commonplace  affairs  of 
State.  His  portfolio  in  the  Cabinet,  which  left  him  re- 
sponsible for  the  affairs  of  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster,  also 
left  him  with  ample  time  to  carry  out  those  other  plans 
which  he  believed  were  to  have  so  great  a  significance  in 
his  country's  future. 

His  day  had  been  spent  in  completing  the  negotiations 
whereby,  for  a  considerable  period,  certain  portions  of  the 
great  ship-building  yards  at  Dorby  were  to  be  adopted 


i;o  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

and  controlled  by  the  Admiralty.  It  had  not  been  easy 
to  stir  the  machinery  of  departments,  and  only  had  it 
been  made  possible  by  invoking  the  efforts  of  the  Prime 
Minister,  Sir  Meeston  Harborough,  and  the  Foreign 
Secretary,  the  Marquis  of  Lordburgh,  with  both  of  whom 
he  had  already  established  a  confidential  understanding. 
Admiral  Sir  Joseph  Caistor  was  purely  a  naval  man,  a 
brilliant  officer,  but  as  yet  intolerant  of  desecrating  the 
traditions  of  his  department  by  confusing  it  with  civilian 
controlled  establishments. 

However,  the  last  obstacle  had  been  finally  surmounted, 
and,  with  its  passing,  he  discovered  the  real  depths  of  his 
anxiety.  A  strong  conviction  of  impending  action  by  the 
German  Government  had  taken  hold  of  him  without  his 
being  fully  aware  of  it.  He  had  been  oppressed  by  it. 
And  now,  at  last,  he  experienced  a  deep  sense  of  relief 
that  the  cloak  of  naval  secrecy  and  protection  was  to  be 
spread  out  over  the  new  construction  upon  which  he  and 
his  father  had  embarked. 

He  sat  thus  reviewing  these  things  and  smoking 
leisurely,  in  the  manner  of  a  satisfied  man.  He  knew  he 
ought  to  attend  to  his  letters  and  then  go  on  down  to  the 
House,  which  was  now  sitting.  But  he  had  no  intention 
of  doing  so.  There  was  no  debate  of  importance  going 
on,  and  he  had  no  desire  to  listen  to  the  silly  twaddle  of  a 
number  of  men  whose  qualifications  as  legislators  would 
have  been  insufficient  to  achieve  for  them  squatting  room 
on  a  council  of  Red  Indians,  and  whose  minds  had  no 
other  conception  of  greatness  than  the  limelight  of  a 
halfpenny  press. 

It  was  five  weeks  since  his  return  from  Borga.  Five 
weeks  of  hard,  rushing  work  in  which  a  confusion  of  af- 


NEWS  171 

fairs  required  to  be  sorted  and  carried  through ;  in  which 
plans  had  to  be  developed  and  set  in  train,  and  during 
which  a  growing  and  almost  oppressing  sense  of  respon- 
sibility had  steadily  taken  possession  of  him.  There  had 
been  no  leisure.  It  had  been  work  incessant,  work,  and 
again  work.  Now,  at  last,  he  felt  that  a  breathing  space 
was  almost  permissible. 

In  his  first  moment  of  leisure  he  was  determined  to 
carry  out  a  purpose  upon  which  he  had  resolved,  even 
amidst  the  turmoil  of  the  affairs  he  had  been  engaged 
upon.  For  not  once  during  all  those  weeks  had  the 
haunting  memory  of  his  beautiful  visitor  on  the  Yorkshire 
cliffs  been  lost  to  him.  He  had  heard  no  word  from  her, 
he  had  caught  no  glimpse  of  her  since  he  had  watched 
her  finally  ascend  the  companionway  of  the  submersible 
to  return  to  the  shore.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had 
been  made  aware  that  there  could  be  a  more  imperative 
claim  upon  a  man  than  his  simple  duty.  For  the  first 
time  in  his  life  he  found  himself  hearkening  to  the 
mandates  of  Nature  in  a  yielding  spirit.  He  could  no 
longer  resist  the  haunting  charms  of  the  wonderful  crea- 
ture who  had  so  appealed  to  his  manhood. 

He  sat  revolving  his  purpose  in  his  mind.  And,  so 
doing,  he  idly  drew  a  copy  of  an  evening  paper  towards 
him.  He  turned  its  pages  in  abstracted  contemplation. 
Then,  suddenly,  a  head-line  caught  and  held  his  attention. 
It  was  the  announcement  of  the  completion  of  his  negotia- 
tions with  the  naval  department. 

He  read  it  eagerly,  not  with  any  desire  to  discover 
publicity  for  himself — rather  the  reverse.  He  looked  to 
discover  how  far  the  pernicious  habit  of  publicity  might 
be  damaging  to  the  cause  in  which  he  was  working.  He 


i/2  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

sighed  in  relief  as  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  paragraph. 
For  once  the  press  had  exercised  laudable  restraint. 
There  was  nothing  in  it  calculated  to  inspire  curiosity  or 
even  comment.  It  simply  stated  that  a  department  in 
the  Dorby  yards  had  been  taken  over  by  the  Board  of 
Admiralty  to  relieve  the  congestion  in  the  Naval  Con- 
struction yards. 

He  thrust  the  paper  aside,  drew  a  telegram  pad  towards 
him,  and  indited  an  address  upon  it. 

"VEEVEE,  LONDON." 

Then  he  paused  and  looked  up  as  the  door  in  the 
panelling  of  the  room  was  thrust  open  and  his  secretary 
presented  himself. 

"  It's  the  telephone,  and  a  woman's  voice  speaking,  Mr. 
Farlow,"  he  said,  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "  I  endeavored 
to  get  her  name,  but  she  refused  it.  I  warned  her  that  I 
could  not  call  you  without  she  stated  her  business,  or  gave 
her  name.  Finally  she  said  I  had  better  tell  you  that 
'  Veevee,  London,'  wished  to  speak  to  you  urgently.  I 
wrote  the  name  down  so  there  should  be  no " 

"  You  can  put  me  through — at  once." 

The  crisp  response  was  not  without  significance  to  the 
younger  man,  and  Harold  Heathcote  departed  with  the 
mental  reservation  that  "even  with  Cabinet  Ministers  you 
never  can  tell." 

A  few  moments  later  the  telephone  receiver  on  Ruxton 
Farlow's  table  purred  its  soft  challenge,  and  he  picked  it 
up  in  hasty  and  delighted  anticipation.  In  a  moment  he 
recognized  Vita  Vladimir's  voice.  His  dark  eyes  smiled 
at  the  sunlit  window  as  he  replied  to  her  enquiry. 


NEWS  173 

"  Yes.  It's  Ruxton  Farlow  speaking.  How-do-you- 
do?  Most  extraordinary  coincidence.  I  was  just  writ- 
ing out  a  telegram  to  you.  I  was  wond Yes,  it's 

ages.  I've  a  lot  to  tell  you  about — things.  Eh?  You 
must  see  me  to-night.  Why,  that's  delightful.  I  am  in 
great  good  luck.  Not  sure  about  the  luck  ?  "  He  laughed 
confidently.  "  I  am.  Eh  ? "  His  laugh  had  died  out 

abruptly.  "  Bad  news.  That's Well,  where  shall 

I  see  you  ?  Not  at — all  right.  Could  you  manage  din- 
ner with  me  somewhere  ?  Ah,  anywhere  you  choose. 
What's  that  ?  The  Oberon  ?  The  West  Room  ?  Will 
that  be  all  right  in  view  of  the — bad  news  ?  Yes,  I  agree. 
It  is  sufficiently  secluded.  Shall  we  say  at  eight  o'clock  ? 
You're  sure  it  quite  suits  you  ?  Splendid.  Yes.  Then 
good-bye — till  eight  o'clock." 

Ruxton  replaced  the  receiver,  and,  for  a  moment,  sat 
staring  out  at  the  sunlit  square.  His  eyes  were  half  smil- 
ing still,  but  there  was  a  puzzled,  slight  elevation  of  his 
level  brows.  He  was  thinking,  speculating  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  bad  news.  But  even  bad  news  which  again 
brought  him  into  corttact  with  the  Princess  Vita  was 
robbed  of  more  than  half  its  significance. 

Whatever  Ruxton  Farlow's  impressions,  drawn  from  his 
earlier  encounters  with  Vita  von  Hertzwohl,  they  became 
totally  eclipsed  by  the  delight  in  her  perfect  beauty  as  it 
appeared  to  him  when  he  kept  his  appointment  for  dinner 
that  night. 

Her  tall  figure,  so  beautifully  rounded,  so  perfect  in  its 
delicate  proportions,  and  so  full  of  a  delicious  sinuous 
grace,  was  gowned  to  perfection.  Her  wonderful  red- 
gold  hair,  tinged  with  its  soft  sheen  of  burnished  copper, 


1/4  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

was  a  perfect  setting  for  the  delicate  tracery  of  jewels 
which  completed  its  exquisitely  unconventional  dressing. 
Her  wonderful  grey  eyes  shone  eagerly  up  into  his,  light- 
ing the  essentially  foreign  complexion  which  was  hers 
with  a  warm  fire  of  virile  mentality.  Such  were  the  feel- 
ings she  inspired  that  he  wondered  absurdly  that  he  could 
ever  have  taken  her  for  anything  less  than  the  princess  he 
now  knew  her  to  be.  So  great  was  her  effect  upon  him 
that  it  was  not  until  her  own  low-spoken  words,  remind- 
ing him  of  the  bad  news  of  which  she  was  the  bearer, 
permitted  the  memory  of  the  affairs  he  was  engaged  upon 
to  return  to  their  paramount  place  in  his  consideration. 

They  were  seated  at  a  small  round  table  in  a  remote 
corner  of  the  great  West  Room.  The  table  next  to  them 
was  unoccupied,  but,  for  the  rest,  the  room  was  fairly  full, 
and  amongst  the  diners  were  a  considerable  number  of 
notables  who  preferred  the  quiet  harmonious  charm  of 
tasteful  surroundings  and  excellent  cooking  to  the  blatancy 
of  the  more  advertised  caravansaries. 

It  was  not  until  the  ptches-melba  had  been  served,  and 
the  order  for  coffee  had  been  given  to  the  waiter,  that  the 
cloud  was  allowed  to  descend  upon  Ruxton's  perfect  en- 
joyment. They  had  talked  of  all  he  had  seen  upon  his 
visit  to  Borga.  They  had  talked  of  Vita's  father,  and  the 
services  he  yearned  to  perform  for  humanity.  Ruxton 
had  described  in  detail  their  flight  from  the  great  arsenal 
and  its  Prussian  commandant.  And  all  the  time  Vita  had 
withheld  her  news,  fearing  for  herself,  as  much  as  for  her 
companion,  the  complete  banishment  of  the  delight  of  this 
moment  of  their  meeting  again. 

But  it  had  to  come,  and  she  faced  it  resolutely.  There 
had  fallen  a  pause  in  their  talk,  and  she  drew  a  deep  sigh. 


NEWS  175 

"  And  now — now  for  the  purpose  of  this  meeting,"  she 
said. 

Then  with  a  resolute  air  she  rested  her  elbows  upon  the 
table  and  clasped  her  beautiful  shapely  hands. 

"  Is  there  any  other  purpose  than — the  present  ?  "  en- 
quired Ruxton,  following  her  example  and  leaning  for- 
ward. His  smile  was  one  of  whimsical  protest.  He  knew 
that  the  moment  had  come  when  he  must  once  more  re- 
turn to  the  harness  of  his  office.  "  I  feel  rather  like  a 
navvy,"  he  proceeded.  "  After  tremendous  exertions  I 
have  just  been  lounging  away  my  dinner  hour.  The 
whistle  has  blown,  and  I  must  get  to  work  again.  You 
have  blown  the  whistle." 

Vita  smiled  faintly.  But  her  eyes  lost  none  of  their 
seriousness  thereby. 

"  I'm  afraid  there  are  liable  to  be  some  heavy  penal- 
ties if — you  do  not  respond  to  it  promptly.  Oh,  dear, 
I  have  so  enjoyed  myself.  I  wish  there  were  no  Prus- 
sians in  the  world." 

"  There  are  fewer  than  there  were." 

"  Yes,  but  so  long  as  one  remains  there  are — too  many. 
I  have  had  a  communication  from  my  father.  It  came 
to-day." 

"A  letter?" 

Vita  shook  her  head. 

"  We  do  not  communicate  by  letter.  A  messenger. 
A  funny  little  old  man  who  carries  samples  of  buttons 
made  in  Austria.  He  represents  a  button  firm,  and 
sells  millions  of  them  over  here.  He  happens  to  be 
my  father's  brother,  although  no  one  is  allowed  to 
guess  the  relationship.  He  is  my  father's  most  loyal 
—friend." 


176  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  And  he  has  brought  you  word  of " 

"  Von  Salzinger." 

Ruxton  waited  for  her  to  continue.  He  was  watch- 
ing her  with  eyes  that  left  him  utterly  incapable  of  for- 
getting her  wonderful  attraction.  She  was  no  longer 
merely  a  partner  in  the  work  he  had  marked  out  for 
himself.  She  was  more.  She  was  the  woman  of  his 
early  youthful  dreams  come  to  life,  and  every  word  that 
fell  from  her  lips  had  for  him  a  significance  which  ap- 
pealed to  the  big  soul  within  him  apart  from  any  verbal 
meaning  it  might  convey. 

"  You  know  father  is  the  oddest  mixture  of  simplicity 
and  shrewdness  I  have  ever  known.  He  is  utterly  with- 
out fear,  and  his  trust,  to  a  point,  is  childlike.  But  when 
he  is  threatened  with  serious  danger  he  is  possessed  of 
all  the  subtlety,  it  seems  to  me,  of  the  whole  world. 
That  is  perhaps  why  I  do  not  gravely  fear  for  his  per- 
sonal safety.  His  message  to  me  illustrates  his  sim- 
plicity, but  gives  no  inkling  of  that  wonderful  shrewd- 
ness which  I  know  him  to  possess.  Perhaps  it  is  worded 
purposely  so  that  I  should  miss  its  real  significance. 
You  see,  father  knows  I  am  a  coward,  and  does  not  like 
to  distress  me.  Perhaps,  on  the  other  hand,  he  only  sees 
in  the  development  the  dire  result  of  his  protest  to  Berlin. 
You  see  I  have  had  the  story  of  your  visit  to  Borga  from 
him  weeks  ago.  But  I  see  more  in  it,  and  I  am  right. 
That's  why  I  warned  you  of  '  bad  news.'  " 

"And  the  news?"  Ruxton's  imagination  had  been 
stirred  by  the  girl's  preliminary. 

"  In  brief  it  is  that  Captain-General  von  Salzinger  has 
been  relieved  of  his  command  at  Borga,  as  a  result  of  his 
attitude  towards  you  and  my  father." 


NEWS  177 

"That  is  what  your  father  assured  me  would  happen. 
He  assured  me  that  in  Berlin  his  power  was  almost  un- 
limited^— as  regards  Borga.  I  see  little  to  trouble  us  in 
that." 

"  No-o." 

Vita's  whole  attitude  underwent  a  change.  She  be- 
came reflective,  and  her  warm  grey  eyes  grew  cold  with 
the  bitterness  of  memory.  After  some  silent  moments 
she  seemed  to  arrive  at  a  decision. 

"  To  impress  you  with  my  point  of  view  I — must 
make  something  like  a  confession,"  she  went  on  pres- 
ently. 

She  was  interrupted  by  the  returning  waiter,  who 
removed  the  sweet  plates  and  cleared  the  table  for 
the  coffee.  After  he  had  poured  it  out  and  departed, 
Vita  went  on.  All  doubt  had  gone  from  her  manner, 
and  her  eyes  smiled  back  into  the  eager  face  of  the  man 
who  had  made  for  himself  the  discovery  of  the  woman  in 
Eden. 

"  It  is  just  a  little  bit  difficult  to  tell  you  these  things," 
she  smiled.  "  But  I  must  do  so,  or  you  will  not  see  the 
danger  as  I  see  it.  It  is  about  an  early  love  affair  of 
mine  with — Von  Salzinger.  Oh,  don't  make  any  mis- 
take," she  cried  hastily,  at  the  abrupt,  ingenuous  change 
in  the  man's  expression.  "  I  was  never  in  love  with  him. 
But  he  was  with  me.  Ugh  !  Von  Salzinger.  A  Prus- 
sian from  head  to  foot.  A  typical,  soulless  Prussian. 
No,  no.  This  man  is  ambitious.  That  is  all  he  cares 
for  in  life — himself  and  his  ambition.  My  father  was  a 
great  man  in  the  country,  and  would  have  been  an  ex- 
cellent lever  to  further  his  ends.  So  he  strove  to — enlist 
my  sympathies.  I  was  very  young,  and — well,  I  think 


i;8  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

most  women,  even  at  an  early  age,  like  being  made  love 
to.  I  did  not  so  greatly  discourage  him  at  first.  Then 
came  the  War,  and  I  discovered  many  things  about  the 
German  people  I  had  never  dreamed  of.  I  also  dis- 
covered the  Prussian  in  Von  Salzinger.  He  strove  his 
utmost  to  enlist  me  in  the  Secret  Service,  of  which,  to 
my  horror,  I  discovered  he  was  a  prominent  member. 
Need  I  tell  you  what  happened  ?  There  was  a  scene — -a 
dreadful  scene,  which  he  has  probably  never  forgiven, 
and — may  never  forgive.  Now  here  is  the  complication 
of  which  my  father  is  unaware.  It  is  my  father  who  has 
brought  about  his  downfall.  Do  you  see?  He  un- 
doubtedly has  suspicions  of  you.  Consequently  he  has 
suspicions  of  my  father.  He  is  bred  to  the  Secret 
Service.  Where  has  he  gone,  and  what  will  he  do  ? 
What  has  he  told  Berlin,  and — what  understanding  has 
he  come  to  with  them  ?  My  simple  father  believes  he 
has  settled  the  matter  definitely  in  the  only  way  his 
position  entitled  him  to  settle  it.  I  think  he  has  set  an 
unusually  swift  and  poisonous  snake  upon  the  tracks  of 
all  of  us.  Now  you  tell  me  what  you  think.  You  can 
probably  judge  the  position  better  than  I.  You  can  look 
upon  it  from  a  detached  point  of  view." 

"  Detached  ? "  Ruxton  smiled  dubiously.  But  his 
interrogation  seemed  to  pass  Vita  by.  She  sipped  her 
coffee  and  waited.  Her  grey  eyes  were  completely 
veiled  beneath  her  long,  dense  lashes.  Ruxton  pushed 
his  empty  cup  aside.  "The  danger  I  see  is  for  your 
father.  Not  for  you,  or  for  anything  over  here.  That, 
of  course,  may  come  later.  The  immediate  danger  is 
for  your  father." 

Vita  sighed. 


NEWS  179 

"  You  have  lightened  my  fears."  She  raised  her  shin- 
ing eyes.  "That  sounds  terrible,  doesn't  it?  But — I 
would  rather  have  danger  threaten  him,  personally,  than 
threaten  his  project — our  project.  His  position  is  unique, 
and  I  doubt  even  if  you  can  appreciate  it.  And  then  he 
has  a  means  of  protecting  himself  which  even  Berlin  has 
no  understanding  of.  Father  can  escape  at  any  moment 
he  considers  it  necessary.  That  was  all  thought  out, 
with  many  other  things,  before  we  approached  you.  Our 
visit  to  Dor  by  is  still  all  unsuspected.  Remember  that." 

"  Yes." 

"  But,  in  spite  of  your  view-point,  we  shall  hear  from 
Von  Salzinger,  if  I  am  not  very  much  mistaken.  You 
see,  he  knows  I  am  in  London.  Unless  we  hear  soon 
that  he  has  been  given  another  appointment  in  Germany, 
then  I  feel  certain  we  shall  have  him  swiftly  on  our  tracks. 
What  can  he  do — to  hurt  us  ?  " 

There  was  unmistakable  apprehension  in  the  girl's 
eyes.  There  was  a  gravity  in  her  assertion  that  would 
not  be  denied,  and  even  Ruxton  realized  the  soundness 
of  her  argument.  But  he  sought  to  console  her,  to 
lessen  her  fears.  He  desired  more  than  all  things  to  see 
her  warm  smile  replace  the  apprehension  she  was  now 
displaying. 

"  He  can  do  nothing  here,  should  he  favor  us  with  a 
visit,"  he  said  lightly.  "  I  have  taken  no  chances.  Only 
to-day  I  have  completed  negotiations  by  which  our  new 
constructions  are  definitely  placed  under  the  control  and 
protection  of  our  Admiralty.  If  your  father  is  safe,  then 
I  think  we  can  snap  our  ringers  at  Captain-General 
von  Salzinger." 

"I'm— glad,"    cried    Vita.     Then    impulsively:     "So 


i8o  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

glad.  Perhaps  you  don't  quite  understand  our  feelings. 
You  see,"  she  went  on  warmly,  "  our  project  has  been 
placed  before  everything  else  in  life.  Life  and  death  or 
imprisonment  are  secondary — quite  secondary — with  us. 
It  is  this  effort  to  save  humanity  from  the  disaster  which 
is  being  engineered  in  the  Teutonic  mind  that  is  all  that 
we  care  for.  If  necessary  we  shall  not  shrink  from  yield- 
ing up  our  lives  to  that  cause.  I  wonder.  Can  you 
understand?  Yes."  She  nodded  decidedly.  "You  do 
understand.  That  is  why  we  came  to  you.  Now  you 
have  reassured  me.  Germany  cannot  stop  the  work 
going  forward.  It  has  become  a  British  national  effort." 
She  sighed  again,  however.  "  But  for  all  that  my  news 
is  bad.  I  am  sure  of  it.  Perhaps  it  is  only  relatively  so. 
I  cannot  say.  If  the  work  goes  on  no  news  can  be  really 
bad.  Yes,  I  am  relieved,  and  I  am  glad  I  'phoned  you. 
I  wish  my  father  had  been  here  to  hear  you  say  that  the 
work  would  go  on.  It  would  have  been  the  greatest 
moment  of  his  life." 

There  was  a  great  striving  for  reassurance  in  her  man- 
ner. Ruxton  watched  it,  as  he  watched  every  other  play 
of  light  and  shade  in  her  voice  and  expression.  Nor  was 
it  until  he  witnessed  the  return  of  her  brilliant  smile  that 
he  felt  content.  With  its  advent  he  returned  again  to  the 
serene  enjoyment  of  the  moment. 

At  length,  no  further  excuse  for  remaining  would  serve, 
and  at  half-past  nine  they  rose  to  go.  For  Ruxton  it  was 
the  passing  of  an  important  milestone  on  his  journey 
through  life.  There  remained  no  longer  any  doubt  of  his 
feelings.  He  knew  he  had  met  at  last  the  only  woman  in 
the  world  who  could  reveal  to  him  the  true  depths  of 
happiness  in  life.  His  full  realization  had  come  with  her 


NEWS  181 

frank  avowal  of  the  place  Von  Salzinger  had  striven  to 
hold  in  her  life.  It  had  been  a  threatening  cloud,  a  sum- 
mer billow  of  cloud  tossed  up  by  some  adverse  air-current, 
and,  for  the  moment,  it  had  obscured  his  sun.  Its  pass- 
ing had  left  him  in  the  full  blaze  of  a  radiance  which  he 
now  appreciated  at  its  true  worth.  He  knew  that  he 
loved  this  wonderful  Princess  Vita. 

Once  again  the  hand  of  Destiny  had  been  revealed. 
He  was  moving  blindly  at  its  bidding.  Nor  had  he  will 
or  inclination  to  diverge  from  the  course  marked  out.  He 
was  content — more  than  content,  and  his  only  alloy  was 
the  rapidly  approaching  termination  of  the  all  too  short 
evening. 

His  car  rolled  up  to  the  door.  He  had  handed  Vita 
into  it,  and  stood  leaning  in  through  the  doorway. 

"  Where  shall  he  drive  to  ?  "  he  enquired,  with  a  smile 
of  amusement.  "  Kensington  ?  " 

"  Please,  Kensington." 

There  was  almost  a  challenge  in  the  smile  with  which 
Vita  replied  to  him. 

A  moment  later  he  was  sitting  beside  her  in  the  cabrio- 
let as  they  drove  on  towards  the  crossing  of  Piccadilly 
Circus. 

"  It  is  too  late  to  let  you  take  me  all  the  way  to  my 
home,"  Vita  said  quietly.  "  Besides,  I  would  rather  re- 
main in  town  for  the  night."  Then  she  broke  off  in  an 
undecided  fashion. 

Ruxton  caught  at  the  pause. 

"  Do  not  think  about  it.  I  have  no  desire  to  know  any- 
thing but  that  which  you  choose  to  tell  me." 

Vita  laughed.  And  Ruxton  felt  that  her  laugh  was 
slightly  embarrassed. 


182  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  It  seems  strange  not  to  tell  you  where  my  real  home 
is,"  she  said.  "  There  is  no  adequate  reason  for  not  doing 
so — and  yet — I  will  tell  you  the  reason  that  I  occupy  my 
Kensington  flat  in  my  two  Christian  names,  and  keep  my 
real  home  away  in  the  country.  Father  and  I  thought 
it  out  when  we  embarked  upon  our  plans.  We  decided 
that  in  emergency  it  would  be  necessary  to  have  a  se- 
cure retreat.  We  endeavored  to  forestall  all  possibilities. 
We " 

She  broke  off,  gazing  across  the  car  at  the  open  window 
of  the  door  beside  Ruxton.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  alarm. 
The  car  had  stopped  in  a  stream  of  traffic,  held  up  by  the 
imperious  arm  of  the  point  policeman.  A  taxicab  had 
come  to  a  stop  beside  them,  and  slightly  in  advance.  A 
hatless  head  had  been  thrust  out  of  the  window  to  observe 
the  cause  of  the  delay.  It  was  a  square  head  upon  still 
squarer  shoulders.  The  neck  that  linked  them  was  fleshy 
and  powerful.  The  hair  was  short  and  stubbly. 

Vita's  hand  reached  swiftly  and  caught  Ruxton's  arm. 

"  Quick,"  she  whispered.  "  Quick — but  cautiously. 
Don't  let  him  see  you.  There,  leaning  out  of  that  cab. 
It  is  Von  Salzinger." 

Ruxton,  his  pulses  quickened  at  the  touch  of  Vita's 
hand  upon  his  arm  and  the  eager  alarm  of  her  whisper, 
leant  forward  and  cautiously  peered  out  of  the  window. 
Instantly  the  inevitable  happened.  The  car  moved  for- 
ward and  closed  up  on  the  cab.  They  had  drawn  abreast. 
The  movement  distracted  the  occupant  of  the  cab.  His 
head  turned  and  Ruxton  found  himself  gazing  squarely 
into  the  fleshy  features  of  the  Commandant  of  Borga. 
He  promptly  drew  back,  but  it  was  too  late.  Von  Salz- 
inger had  no  scruples.  He  had  obviously  recognized  the 


NEWS  183 

Englishman,  for  now  he  leant  farther  out  of  the  window 
and  deliberately  peered  into  the  well-lit  interior  of  the  car 
for  a  second  look  at  its  occupants. 

It  was  a  desperate,  trying  movement.  Ruxton  was 
helpless.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done.  The  man's 
scrutiny  of  both  himself  and  his  companion  remained  until 
the  traffic  moved  on.  Then,  and  then  only,  did  he  with- 
draw his  head. 

"  He  has  lost  no  time,  and  has  had  all  the — luck,"  said 
Vita  in  a  hard,  bitter  tone. 

But  Ruxton  smiled  and  spoke  down  into  the  tube  to  the 
chauffeur. 

"  There  is  a  taxi  beside  us.  Avoid  it"  Then  he  put 
up  the  tube  and  turned  to  the  girl  at  his  side.  "  Your 
fears  were  well  grounded.  With  Von  Salzinger  in  Lon- 
don there  can  be  only  one  possible  interpretation  of  the 
fact.  But  I  don't  think  he  has  had  all  the  luck.  You 
forget  that  I  have  completed  my  arrangements  with  the 
Admiralty." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

"  KAMERADS " 

Two  men  walked  briskly  up  Baker  Street  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  Underground  Station.  At  least,  one  of  them 
walked  briskly.  The  gait  of  the  other  were  better  described 
as  hurried.  He  was  obviously  making  an  effort  to  keep 
up  with  his  powerful,  square-cut,  vigorous  companion 
Many  eyes  were  turned  upon  them  as  they  passed  by.  It 
was  the  provocative  air  of  the  larger  man,  whose  gait  was 
more  than  arrogant. 

The  lesser  of  the  two  was  not  oblivious  to  the  attention. 

"  It  is  almost  in  the  nature  of  a  shock  to  find  myself 
walking  beside  you  in  London,  Ludwig.  It  is  the  old 
days  again.  But  in  the  old  days  you  were  thankful  to 
disguise  the  fact  that  you  possessed  military  training. 
Now  it  is  as  if  you  were  on  parade.  These  people  hate 
and  distrust  anything  which  suggests  the — military." 

Ludwig  von  Salzinger  laughed  gutturally.  His  fierce 
eyes  glanced  swiftly  about  him,  ready  to  challenge  any 
resentful  glance  in  his  direction. 

"  I  care  nothing  for  the  pigs,"  he  observed  pleasantly. 

"  No.  But  you  are  here  for — distraction.  I  have 
work  which  demands  that  I  attract  as  little  attention  as 
possible." 

"  Distraction  ?  "  Von  Salzinger  laughed  without  any 
mirth.  Then  he  became  suddenly  serious.  "  Distraction 
— yes,  that  is  it." 


"KAMERADS"1  185 

The  smaller  man  was  quick  of  eye — almost  furtive. 
His  slight  figure  was  well  clad  in  an  ordinary  blue  serge 
suit.  His  boots  had  once  been  of  patent  leather.  His 
hat  was  of  the  Homburg  pattern  so  beloved  of  the  Lon- 
doner. He  wore  his  brown  hair  fairly  long  to  disguise 
the  flat  back  of  his  head.  His  face  was  perfectly  clean 
shaven,  which  left  it  typical  of  the  ordinary  man  on  the 
street.  The  other  was  so  obviously  of  the  Teuton  mili- 
tary caste  in  spite  of  his  elegant  civilian  dress,  that  his 
companion  was  seriously  troubled.  He  protested  again. 

"  If  you  cannot  disguise  yourself  let  us  take  a  cab. 
Can  you  not  drop  your  shoulders  like  the  London  '  knut '  ? 
Can  you  not  slouch  ?  Can  you  not  refrain  from  lifting 
your  feet  as  though  you  would  crush  a  worm,  or — an 
Englishman  ?  Your  moustache  is  bad  enough." 

"  Ach  !  you  are  afraid,  like  some  sick  woman.  What 
is  it?"  cried  Salzinger  half  angrily,  half  contemptuously. 
"  Has  the  work  broken  your  spirit  ?  It  was  not  so  in  the 
old  days.  Johann  Stryj,  you  need  a  holiday — distraction, 
like  I  am  seeking."  He  laughed  at  his  own  clumsy  humor. 

Stryj  took  no  umbrage.  He  never  took  umbrage  till 
he  had  discovered  all  the  possibilities  of  a  man.  Von 
Salzinger  had  arrived  just  as  he  had  finished  his  English 
breakfast  in  his  essentially  English  flat  in  Baker  Street. 
Johann  Stryj  had  spared  no  pains  to  mould  his  whole  life 
and  person  upon  London  lines.  Von  Salzinger  had  ex- 
plained nothing  as  yet  of  the  meaning  of  his  sudden 
descent  upon  London.  He  had  merely  demanded  that 
his  erstwhile  comrade  now  accompany  him  to  his  hotel. 

"  And  what — distraction  do  you  seek  ?  " 

The  man's  quick  eyes  were  sharply  questioning  in  spite 
of  the  smile  accompanying  his  words. 


1 86  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  That  is  what  I  conduct  you  to  my  hotel  to  tell  you  of." 

Johann  Stryj  appeared  to  acquiesce,  and  they  pro- 
gressed in  silence  for  a  few  paces.  Then  the  quick  eyes 
were  again  raised  in  the  direction  of  Von  Salzinger's 
square  face. 

"  You  have  left  us  all  very  far  behind  in  the  service  of 
the  Fatherland.  We  hear  it  all — here.  And  four  years 
ago  you  were  with  us,  waiting  upon  every  message  that 
came,  wondering  where  the  next  few  hours  would  find  us." 

Stryj's  words  were  calculated  to  set  the  other  talking. 
They  succeeded.  Von  Salzinger  was  obviously  pleased. 

"  You,  my  Johann,  were  built  for  the — service.  I  was 
not.  I  have  not  that  faculty  for  making  my  feelings  sub- 
servient to  the  needs  of  the  moment.  I  was  glad  when 
the  call  of  the  war  took  me  out  of  it,  and — gave  me  my 
chance." 

Stryj  nodded  in  an  expressionless  fashion. 

"  Yes.  I  am  at  home  in  the  work.  I  love  it."  Then 
he  laughed  silently.  "  I  am  the  servant  of  every  pom- 
pous official  who  visits  London.  I  am  the  slave  of  my 
orders.  I  am  a  cypher  on  the  official  lists,  I  am  nothing 
amongst  the  people  of  the  nation  which  I  serve.  Yet  I 
am  the  head  of  the  underground  system  which  works 
here  in  England,  and,  incidentally,  my  income  is  four 
times  that  of  a  Captain-General.  Your  honor  is  very 
great,  Ludwig,  but  I  wonder  if  you  have  advanced  since 
— those  days." 

Von  Salzinger  made  no  reply.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  recent  scene  in  which  he  had  participated  in  the 
castle  of  Kuhlhafen.  His  face  expressed  something  of 
his  feelings  of  chagrin,  and  his  companion  was  not  slow 
to  detect  them. 


"KAMERADS"  187 

"  This  is  a  thought  of  yours  too,  perhaps,"  he  went  on 
at  once.  "  The  moment  a  man  enters  the  higher  ranks 
of  our  army  his  troubles  begin.  He  must  fight  for  favor, 
and  win  it  or  decay  in  some  obscure  ditch  in  the  military 
office.  Nor  can  he  rely  for  five  minutes  upon  that  favor. 
Degradation  awaits  at  the  first  blunder  which  it  is  not 
humanly  possible  to  avoid.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

All  the  buoyancy  of  Von  Salzinger  seemed  to  have 
vanished  from  his  hard  eyes.  His  old  friend  was  telling 
him  all  that  he  had  only  too  much  reason  to  be  aware  of. 
He  had  fought  his  way  up  that  perilous  ladder  of  Prus- 
sian militarism,  and  like  so  many  others  he  had  tripped 
and  fallen,  and  now  was  faced  with  the  task  of  making 
good  the  temporary  set-back.  He  had  struggled  hard 
at  the  first  trip,  and  he  told  himself  that  fortune  had 
favored  him,  and  he  had  kept  his  hold,  but  well  he  knew 
that  unless  he  recovered  his  foothold  himself  he  must  fall 
to  the  bottom  and  die  in  obscurity. 

He  turned  on  the  Secret  Service  man. 

"  It  is  all  as  you  say.  But  the  very  uncertainty  of  it 
makes  it  all  the  more  worth  winning.  That  is  why  I  am 
in  London  now.  When  I  have  finished  in  London  I  shall 
have  achieved  the  lasting  honor,  so  rare  in  our  Father- 
land." 

Stryj  shook  his  head. 

"There  is  none — no  lasting  honor  in  our  Fatherland," 
he  said. 

Then  with  a  quick  turn  he  pointed  at  the  window  of  a 
fashionable  photographic  studio.  There  was  a  life-size 
portrait  standing  in  the  very  centre  of  it.  It  was  a  full- 
length  portrait  of  a  man  of  over  six  feet.  He  was  in  the 
uniform  of  a  British  field-marshal. 


1 88  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  There  is  lasting  honor  in  this  country,"  he  said,  as 
they  paused  and  stood  gazing  at  the  wonderful  face  in 
the  portrait,  with  its  level,  stern  brows,  its  convincing^ 
powerful  eyes,  and  the  heavy  moustache  that  in  no  way 
detracted  from  the  purposeful  set  of  the  jaws.  "  They 
are  loyal  to  those  they  honor  here.  The  man  who  has 
fought  a  great  war  for  them,  as  that  man  has  done,  need 
do  no  more.  His  name  and  fame  will  go  down  to  his- 
tory with  the  vast  material  honor  they  have  showered 
upon  him.  That  is  a  name  that  will  never  die — in  Eng- 
land." 

But  Von  Salzinger  had  no  comment  to  offer.  They 
stood  gazing  for  some  moments  at  the  stern-faced  pre- 
sentation of  the  marshal.  Then  quite  suddenly  an  iron 
grip  took  hold  of  the  spy's  muscular  upper  arm. 

Von  Salzinger  was  pointing  at  a  lesser  portrait.  It 
was  one  among  several  comprising  the  faces  of  well- 
known  parliamentarians. 

"  That  man  !  Quick ! "  There  was  excitement  in  his 
voice,  and  a  mild  pink  had  leapt  up  into  his  sallow 
cheeks. 

Stryj  was  startled,  but  displayed  no  emotion. 

"  The  name  is  underneath,"  he  said,  pointing.  "  He 
is  a  new  member  of  the  Cabinet.  Ruxton  Farlow." 

"  Donner  1  I've  found  him.  Quick  !  We  take  a  taxi." 
Then  Von  Salzinger  laughed,  all  his  earlier  buoyancy 
returned.  "  You  are  right,  my  Johann.  I  am  too  mili- 
tary to  walk  in  London.  But  the  walk  has  done  me 
good — much  good." 

A  moment  later  they  were  in  a  taxi  speeding  on  their 
way  towards  Von  Salzinger's  hotel. 

"What  is  the — distraction?"  enquired  Stryj,  as  the  cab 


"KAMERADS"  189 

swung  sharply  out  of  Baker  Street.  His  calmness  of 
manner  was  in  marked  contrast  to  that  of  his  companion, 
who  was  still  breathing  heavily  under  his  emotion.  He 
understood  now  that  a  matter,  an  important  mission,  was 
on  hand,  and  every  faculty  was  alert  to  miss  nothing  of 
any  detail  of  it,  even  the  mood  of  his  old  friend.  . 

"Distraction?"  Von  Salzinger  laughed.  "Yes,  it  is 
distraction.  But  distraction  can  mean  another  emotion 
than  pleasure.  Hey  ?  " 

"  Yes."     Stryj  nodded. 

Then  Von  Salzinger  leant  over  and  whispered  elabo- 
rately into  the  other's  ear,  as  the  cabby  changed  his  gears 
with  a  clatter  and  the  cab  began  the  ascent  of  the  ap- 
proach to  the  hotel. 

"  That  man  Farlow,  as  you  call  him,  stole  into  Borga 
when  I  was  in  command.  I  am  not  in  command  of 
Borga — now." 

Johann  Stryj  faced  his  companion  with  eyes  that  never 
seemed  to  express  more  than  a  mild  interest.  Von  Salz- 
inger was  lounging  in  a  large  armchair  smoking  a  long 
cigar.  They  were  in  the  latter's  private  sitting-room  in 
the  hotel.  In  spite  of  his  leisured  attitude,  deep  emotion 
lit  the  eyes  of  the  late  Commandant  of  Borga,  and  an 
undercurrent  of  excitement  kept  his  cigar  glowing  in  a 
reckless  manner.  Stryj  smoked  a  Turkish  cigarette  with 
a  composure  that  was  in  sharp  contrast  with  his  compan- 
ion's attitude. 

"  So  you  see  it  was  not  only  friendship  that  fetched  me 
to  your  apartment  this  morning,  my  good  Johann,"  Von 
Salzinger  finished  up,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  story  of 
the  visit  of  Ruxton  Farlow  to  the  secret  heart  of  the  great 


190  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Borga  arsenal.  "  I  am  here  for  distraction.  Hey  ?  Dis- 
traction, and  the  unravelling  of  the  plot  against  the  most 
treasured  secret  of  the  Fatherland.  I  am  here  for  more. 
I  am  here  to  break  it  up,  and,  incidentally,  if  possible,  to 
break  up  those  concerned  in  it." 

The  man  illustrated  his  purpose  viciously,  with  two 
clenched  fists  breaking  an  imaginary  object. 

Stryj  inhaled  deeply  of  his  cigarette. 

"  And  if  you  fail  ?  " 

He  was  reading  deeply  into  the  less  astute  mind  of  the 
other.  He  had  grasped  fully  his  position.  He  knew, 
although  he  asked,  what  awaited  failure  for  his  old 
comrade,  Von  Salzinger. 

"  There  will  be  no  failure,  I  promise  you.  I  have  un- 
limited powers,  and  I  shall  use  them.  Oh,  yes,  I  shall 
use  them." 

"What  powers?" 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  spy  were  watchful. 

Von  Salzinger  produced  a  document  from  his  breast 
pocket.  He  opened  it.  He  glanced  over  it,  and  passed 
it  across  to  the  other. 

"  My  credentials,"  he  said,  with  triumph  in  his  ac- 
companying glance. 

Johann  Stryj  took  the  document  and  perused  it  care- 
fully. He  closely  examined  the  signatures.  When  he 
looked  up  it  was  obvious  that  he  was  almost  startled. 

"  It  has  never  been  done  before,"  he  said,  almost  in- 
credulously. "  By  this  the  entire  Secret  Service  is  placed 
at  your  disposal — absolutely." 

Von  Salzinger  nodded. 

"  Now  do  you  understand  ?  Now?"  he  cried  violently. 
"  We  believe  this  Englishman  has  burrowed  out  the  most 


"  KAMERADS  "  191 

stupendous  secret  of  our  Government.  We  believe  he 
has  tricked  us  through  this  traitor,  Hertzwohl.  Gott  1 
He  has  caused  me  to  be — degraded." 

Stryj  passed  the  violence  of  his  companion  by.  His 
mind  was  searching,  searching  where  the  less  acute 
soldier  could  not  follow. 

"  And  what  of  this  Hertzwohl  ?     Has  he  been  shot?  " 

"  Not  yet.  We  have  to  prove  this  thing — first.  That 
is  our  work." 

"  Ah." 

Stryj  had  learned  all  he  wanted  to  know. 

At  that  moment  a  waiter  entered  the  room  bearing  a 
copy  of  Who 's  Who  for  the  current  year.  Von  Salzinger 
seized  upon  it,  and,  by  the  time  the  man  had  withdrawn 
and  shut  the  door,  he  had  found  the  page  he  sought. 

"  Ach  !"  cried  Von  Salzinger.  "  Here  he  is.  The  luck 
has  served  me  well.  It  is  as  though  the  plums  were  ripe, 
and  ready  to  drop  into  my  mouth." 

Stryj  rose  and  crossed  over  to  his  side.  He  looked 
down  where  the  stubby  finger  of  the  soldier  pointed. 

"  Farlow,  Ruxton.  Only  son  of  Sir  Andrew  Farlow, 
Bart.  Member  of  Parliament  for .  Under  Secre- 
tary for  Foreign  Office  in  19 — .  Yes.  Partner  in  firm 
of  Farlow,  Son  and  Farlow,  ship-builders  and  ship-owners. 
Dorby.  Ha  1  Dorby,  Yorkshire.  Residence,  Dorby 
Towers,  Yorkshire.  So."  Salzinger  looked  up  as  he 
concluded  reading  out  disjointed  fragments  of  the  in- 
formation he  sought.  "  They  are  ripe — ripe,  these 
plums,"  he  cried  exultingly.  "Johann,  my  friend,"  he 
went  on,  glancing  up  into  the  spy's  clever  face,  "  it  is 
good  to  see  the  plums  hanging — ripe.  We  have  got  to 
hear  all  they  talk  of  and  contemplate,  we  have  to  watch 


192  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

and  discover  all  that  is  known  by  Farlow,  Son  and  Farlow. 
That  is  your  work.  You,  and  those  under  your  control. 
You  will  leave  for  Dorby  at  once.  While  I " 

"  Watch  that  the  birds  do  not  eat  the  ripe  plums  you 
would  pick.  Dorby.  I  saw  the  name  in  the  papers 
yesterday.  Those  are  the  yards  some  portion  of  which 
have  been  taken  over  by  the  British  Admiralty.  These 
papers  tell  me  something  worth  while  sometimes." 

"The  British  Navy?"  The  fierce  eyes  of  the  soldier 
were  startled.  He  ran  his  fingers  through  his  stubbly 
hair.  "  Curse  the  British  Navy." 

"  Yes." 

The  mild  rejoinder  seemed  to  irritate  Von  Salzinger. 

"  Talk  !  Talk!  Ach  !  Those  are  your  orders,  Johann. 
See  to  them,  and  communicate  with  me  here.  I  must 
write." 

He  moved  over  to  a  desk  while  Stryj  deliberately 
adjusted  his  hat  and  lit  another  cigarette.  Then  he 
moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  ? "  he  enquired,  with  his  hand 
upon  the  handle. 

Von  Salzinger  glanced  round. 

"Yes,  use  every  means  at  your  command  to  get  the 
information  we  need.  Remember,  Stryj,  if  the  secrets  of 
Borga  have  been  discovered,  if  our  country  has  been 
betrayed,  then  a  harvest  of  vengeance  is  going  to  be 
reaped." 

He  turned  back  to  his  desk  and  began  a  long  com- 
munication addressed  to  Prince  von  Berger,  while  Johann 
Stryj  passed  silently  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE   INERADICABLE  STRAIN 

VON  SALZINGER  was  gross.  He  looked  it.  But  he 
had  not  yet  arrived  at  those  years  when  the  outward 
form  loses  its  atmosphere  of  virile  strength  submerged 
beneath  overwhelming  adipose  and  a  general  bodily 
inertia.  That  would  come  as  inevitably  as  reaction 
invariably  follows  upon  the  heels  of  excess  when  vitality 
passes  its  maximum.  Von  Salzinger  was  of  original 
type,  and  beneath  the  shallow  veneer  of  the  civilizing 
process,  in  him  was  to  be  found  of  a  certainty  the  hairy 
hands  of  the  savage.  It  is  the  brand  which  can  never  be 
eradicated  from  the  original  Teuton,  and  particularly 
from  those  who  are  native  of  Prussia.  The  anxious  in- 
sistence of  the  claims  to  Kultur,  emanating  more  particu- 
larly from  Prussian  sources,  can  be  taken  as  something 
in  the  nature  of  an  unconscious  admission  of  the  depths 
from  which  they  have  only  been  partially  lifted. 

Von  Salzinger  was  pronouncedly  of  this  type.  He 
possessed  all  the  physical  and  mental  force  which  belongs 
to  it ;  just  as  he  possessed  the  full  appetite  for  excess 
which  is  its  invariable  accompaniment.  In  him  was  de- 
veloped to  an  unusual  degree  the  desire  for  all  the  bodily 
enjoyment  that  life  can  offer  to  a  creature  in  whose  veins 
flows  the  full  tide  of  the  animal. 

Once  having  completed  his  arrangements  with  his  erst- 
while comrade  Johann  Stryj,  he  returned  to  the  carefully 


194  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

considered  course  which  he  had  marked  out.  With  all 
the  Prussian's  scheming  mind,  from  the  moment  he  had 
been  made  aware  of  the  drift  of  his  fortunes  he  had  cast 
about  for  the  best  outlets  which  might  promise  ameliora- 
tion for  the  position  which  chance  had  placed  him  in. 
Nor  had  he  been  slow  to  discover  what  he  sought.  Pos- 
sibilities had  promptly  opened  up  before  the  mental  force 
which  he  applied  to  the  problem  before  him. 

He  withdrew  a  letter-case  from  his  breast  pocket  the 
moment  he  had  finished  his  communication  to  Von  Berger. 
He  leant  back  from  his  desk,  and,  one  by  one,  turned  over 
the  papers  the  case  contained.  Finally  he  selected  a 
letter  written  on  thin  paper,  in  a  close,  spidery  hand.  He 
read  this  letter  through  twice.  His  face  was  smiling  as 
he  read,  but  his  eyes  remained  unchanging. 

Finally  he  laid  the  letter  down  and  copied  into  a  note- 
book two  addresses  which  had  been  carefully  detailed  in 
it.  He  read  them  over  and  verified  them.  One  was  in 
Kensington,  and  the  other  was  described  as  being  near  a 
well-known  market  town  in  the  county  of  Buckingham- 
shire. With  this  matter  accomplished  he  glanced  at  the 
clock.  Should  he  wait  for  lunch  in  the  hotel,  or  should  he 
run  into  the  West  End  and  regale  himself  at  one  of  the 
fashionable  restaurants  ?  Finally  the  attractions  of  the 
latter  triumphed  in  their  appeal  to  his  gastronomic  senses 
and  he  telephoned  down  to  the  hall  porter  for  a  cab. 

Von  Salzinger  had  lunched  well.  He  sat  back  in  the 
taxi-cab  in  the  attitude  of  a  man  enjoying  the  satisfaction 
of  a  more  than  well-lined  stomach.  Even,  for  the  mo- 
ment, as  he  leisurely  smoked  a  great  Corona  cigar,  and 
reflected  on  the  quart  bottle  of  Pol  Roger  '06  he  had  con- 


THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN  195 

i 

sumed,  he  felt  that  the  position  was  not  without  its  com- 
pensations, and,  after  all,  in  certain  departments,  the 
French  and  the  long-legged  English  were  not  wholly  to 
be  despised. 

Such  was  his  satisfaction  that  his  eyes  were  half  closed 
by  the  time  the  cab  jerked  to  a  standstill  outside  a  modest 
block  of  flats  in  Kensington.  But  he  was  alert  in  a 
second,  for  that  was  the  man.  His  purpose  at  all  times 
dominated,  and  only  in  the  moments  of  leisure  did  he 
permit  himself  the  indulgence  he  craved. 

He  negotiated  with  the  cabman  for  a  possible  continu- 
ance of  the  journey,  and  passed  into  the  building,  his 
alertness  and  activity  in  no  way  impaired  by  the  ampli- 
tude of  his  luncheon. 

Five  minutes  later  he  returned  with  a  cloud  of  annoy- 
ance depressing  his  heavy  brows.  He  strutted  up  to  the 
driver  and  gave  his  orders. 

"  We'll  go  on  to  Wednesford,"  he  said,  in  his  heavy 
guttural  English.  "  You  must  have  petrol,  for  I  return 
to-night  by  eight  o'clock.  What  is  it,  the  distance  ? 
Twenty-five  miles  ?  So.  It  is  easy  to  do." 

The  Londoner  acquiesced  without  enthusiasm,  and  Von 
Salzinger  reentered  the  cab,  and  slammed  the  door  closed 
behind  him.  That  was  his  mood.  He  had  been  pre- 
pared to  make  the  journey,  but  he  was  irritated  that  he 
had  to  do  so. 

In  twenty  minutes  the  cab  had  threaded  its  way  on  to 
the  Oxford  Road,  and,  regardless  of  all  speed  limit,  raced 
on  towards  the  famous  Chiltern  Hills. 

Already  the  early  autumn  leaves  were  beginning  to  fall 
under  the  freshening  breeze.  The  hedges  were  beginning 


196  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

to  lose  their  trim  appearance,  and  the  dust-laden  leaves  on 
the  midsummer  growths  wore  a  mildewed  aspect  that 
somehow  matched  the  lank,  weedy  grass  of  the  road 
banks.  The  roads  were  dry,  and  the  fields  looked  dry. 
There  was  a  weary  look  about  the  countryside  as  though 
Nature  had  completed  her  summer's  work,  and  was 
eagerly  looking  forward  to  her  winter  rest. 

A  solitary  horsewoman  was  leisurely  riding  down  one 
of  the  tarred  roads  approaching  Wednesford.  Her  horse 
was  steaming,  and  her  obvious  intent  was  to  cool  him 
down  before  reaching  her  destination.  Presently  she 
turned  off  upon  a  narrow  country  lane,  whose  surface  was 
no  advertisement  for  the  zeal  of  the  local  urban  council. 
It  was  rough,  and  deep  in  dust,  with  overgrown  hedges 
crowding  in  upon  its  narrow  limits  in  a  manner  which 
forced  her  to  keep  an  accurate  middle  course. 

But  Princess  Vita  was  not  only  cooling  down  her  horse 
after  a  joyous  gallop  upon  an  adjacent  gorse-laden  com- 
mon. She  was  thinking  deeply,  dreaming  as  only  a 
woman  of  romantic  ideals  can  dream.  Nor  were  her 
thoughts  with  the  rural  picture  through  which  she  was 
now  moving,  and  which  her  ardent  heart  loved.  She 
was  gazing  back  over  past  moments  so  recently  spent  in 
the  heart  of  the  great  capital.  Just  now  her  whole  mind 
was  filled  with  thoughts  of  the  man.  And  so  she  had  no 
room  for  any  other  consideration. 

For  the  moment  the  affairs  which  had  brought  this  man 
and  herself  together  were  powerless  to  disturb  her  dream- 
ing. The  sweet,  fragrant  air  of  the  autumn  countryside 
was  filling  her  lungs,  a  sense  of  well-being  pervaded  her 
body  in  the  exercise  in  which  she  delighted,  and  so  the 
youthful  heart  of  her  had  turned  aside  from  the  cares 


THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN  197 

which  lurked  in  the  background,  and  sought  only  the 
image  of  the  man  who  was  already  beginning  to  occupy 
so  great  a  part  of  her  life. 

The  Princess  Vita  was  a  well-known  figure  in  the 
neighborhood.  She  was  known  as  Madame  Vladimir, 
who  occupied  Redwithy  Farm,  standing  in  a  sleepy 
hollow  nearly  two  miles  outside  Wednesford.  She  had 
occupied  the  farmhouse  for  several  years,  and  gossip, 
supported  by  the  reports  of  the  local  police  during  the 
late  war,  declared  that  she  was  a  refugee  from  Russian 
Poland,  and  consequently  one  of  our  Allies,  and  so  those 
who  lived  sufficiently  near  by  had  set  themselves  to  be 
kind  to  her,  and,  incidentally,  to  satisfy  as  much  of  their 
curiosity  as  possible. 

But  the  Princess  was  not  easily  available  to  the  curious. 
She  was  gentle,  she  was  sufficiently  ordinary  in  her  meth- 
ods of  life  to  please  the  most  exacting  of  her  country 
neighbors.  Furthermore,  while  professing  some  Polish 
religion  which  the  country  folk  had  no  understanding  of, 
in  the  absence  of  a  church  of  her  own  she  had  readily 
adopted  the  Church  of  England.  This  was  enormously 
in  her  favor,  and  she  quickly  became  an  admittedly  proper 
person. 

But  even  the  most  well-meaning  never  succeeded  in 
penetrating  beneath  the  surface  of  acquaintanceship.  She 
was  credited  with  being  extremely  well  off.  Redwithy 
Farm  was  a  miniature,  restored  Elizabethan  mansion  of 
rare  antiquity,  set  in  the  heart  of  a  parkland  of  over  eighty 
acres.  During  the  war  she  had  only  kept  English  serv- 
ants, some  seven  or  eight,  but  from  the  moment  peace 
had  been  declared  these  had  been  replaced  one  by  one 
with  foreigners,  retainers  from  her  own  home  in  Poland. 


198  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

No  one  seriously  questioned  the  change.  One  and  all 
admitted  that  the  conditions  of  Poland  after  the  war  made 
it  a  charity  on  the  part  of  Madame  Vladimir  to  rescue 
these  poor  people  from  such  a  condition  of  devastation 
and  afford  them  the  blessings  and  peace  of  the  English 
countryside. 

So,  through  her  own  consummate  tact,  Vita  was  en- 
abled to  live  more  or  less  unquestioned  in  her  English 
home.  And  such  peace  was  justly  her  due,  for  her  ob- 
jects were  simple  and  honest  for  the  country  of  her  adop- 
tion. She  was  preparing,  as  many  another  foreigner 
had  done  before  her,  a  refuge  in  the  hospitable  heart  of 
Britain  for  that  father  for  whom  she  foresaw  the  growing 
threat  of  danger. 

Half-way  down  the  winding,  narrow  lane  she  turned 
out  through  an  opening  which  had  once  been  a  five- 
barred  gate.  She  crossed  a  field  and  passed  into  an- 
other, and  then  another.  Then,  making  her  way  through 
a  small  iron  gateway,  she  entered  the  twenty-acre  patch 
of  larch  and  birch  woods  which  stood  on  a  hill  on  her  own 
land  dominating  the  farm. 

Following  the  narrow  cart  track  through  these  woods, 
her  fine  eyes  busy  in  every  direction  with  the  scuttling 
rabbits,  she  emerged  in  full  view  of  the  quaint  old  L-shaped 
house.  It  was  a  perfect  picture  of  rural  England.  There 
was  not  another  house  in  sight.  Red  withy  Farm  seemed 
to  be  shut  off  from  the  rest  of  the  world  by  the  hilly  sur- 
roundings of  the  Chilterns.  The  land  rose  up  on  every 
side  but  one,  and  that  was  the  direction  in  which  the 
ribbon-like  drive  wound  its  way  eastwards  between  the 
railed-in  pastures  of  rich  grassland.  The  building  was 
two-storied  for  the  most  part,  but  here  and  there  dormer 


THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN  199 

attic  windows  peeped  out  under  the  eaves  of  the  beauti- 
fully cut  thatched  roof.  Then,  behind  the  house  itself  lay 
the  old  farm  buildings,  all  in  excellent  repair,  and  in  an- 
other direction  were  the  heavy  ancient  red  walls  surround- 
ing the  various  fruit  gardens  and  glass  ranges. 

Vita  loved  the  place,  and  never  more  appreciated  it 
than  when  gazing  at  it  from  this  view-point.  Just  now 
there  was  the  added  charm  of  the  ripening  autumn  tints 
lending  warmth  to  the  scene  and  adding  to  it  that  snug 
suggestion  of  shelter  from  the  coming  inclemencies  of 
winter. 

But  in  the  midst  of  her  happy  contemplation  she  be- 
came startled.  The  wonderful  peace  of  it  all  was  abruptly 
broken.  Round  the  corner  of  the  straight-limbed  woods, 
to  the  east,  a  motor  vehicle  made  its  appearance.  It 
came  on  swiftly  down  the  drive.  At  first  Vita  took  it  to 
be  the  car  of  some  caller  from  the  neighborhood,  but,  in  a 
moment,  the  familiar  outline  of  a  taxi-cab  impressed  itself 
upon  her. 

This  realization  was  the  startling  part  of  the  apparition, 
and,  without  hesitation,  she  pressed  her  horse  on  towards 
the  house. 

Vita's  hasty  return  to  the  house  was  inspired  by  an  in- 
tangible dread.  There  was  no  such  thing  as  a  taxi-cab 
in  Wednesford.  Therefore  her  visitor  must  have  come 
from  farther  afield.  There  was  only  one  place  in  her  mind 
associated  with  taxi-cabs — London.  If  the  cab  came  from 
London,  then 

Her  undefined  fears  received  ample  confirmation  on 
reaching  the  house.  Herr  von  Salzinger  was  awaiting 
her  in  the  drawing-room.  And  at  once  she  realized, 


200  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

without  having  admitted  it  to  herself,  that  this  was  the 
very  thing  she  had  dreaded.  How  could  she  have  ad- 
mitted it  ?  It  had  seemed  impossible.  Her  retreat  was 
known  to  no  one  but  her  father.  How  then  had  this  man 
discovered  it — and  so  promptly? 

The  riddle  of  it  left  her  troubled.  She  must  some- 
how gain  time  to  think.  Finally,  she  gave  word  to  the 
sallow  dark-eyed  man-servant  that  she  would  join  Herr 
von  Salzinger  in  the  drawing-room  in  a  few  minutes. 
Then  she  passed  up-stairs  to  change  her  habit. 

Half  an  hour  later  she  entered  the  drawing-room,  a 
picture  of  such  beauty  as  set  the  strong  pulses  of  the 
Prussian  hammering,  and  made  him,  for  the  moment,  at 
least,  remember  only  one  side  of  the  decision  which  had 
brought  him  to  Redwithy  Farm. 

Vita's  ready  wit  had  been  active.  She  had  decided  on 
her  course  of  action,  and  greeted  him  now  with  an  assump- 
tion of  warmth  which  flattered  him,  and  helped  to  disarm. 

"  Ludwig  von  Salzinger  1  "  she  cried,  her  hand  out- 
held  in  cordial  welcome.  "You,  in  London,  after  all 
this  time  ?  How  have  you  managed  to  tear  yourself 
from  the  paths  of  honor,  which,  if  all  accounts  be  true, 
you  have  so  familiarly  been  treading  of  late  ?  Do  you 
know,  when  I  saw  your  familiar  features  last  night  in 
that  cab  I  really  couldn't  believe  it  was  you.  And  how 
— how  in  the  name  of  all  that's  wonderful  did  you  man- 
age to  find  me  out  here  ?  " 

Her  assumption  of  pleasure  was  perfect.  Its  sincerity 
even  convinced  the  man  who  had  come  prepared  for  a 
rebuff. 

He  laughed  in  responsive  cordiality.  But  his  eyes 
somehow  retained  their  normal  hardness  of  expression. 


THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN  201 

"  Do  not  let  us  talk  of  how  I  found  you  out,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  likely  to  arouse — memories.  You  see,  I  have  still 
many  friends  in  this  England — of  yours." 

"  Mine  ?  "  Vita  shrugged  her  superb  shoulders,  and 
crossed  over  to  the  mantelpiece,  where  she  stood  rest- 
ing an  elbow  upon  it.  "  But  I  know  what  you  mean." 
She  sighed  a  regret.  "  You  found  me  through  your 
old  Secret  Service  friends.  I  ought  to  have  remem- 
bered." Then  she  smiled,  and  her  eyes  fixed  them- 
selves intensely  upon  the  gross  face  of  the  man.  "  But 
I  wanted  to  forget  that.  I  wanted  to  remember  only 
the  man  who  had  risen  by  the  force  of  his  own  per- 
sonality and  attainments  to  high  military  command  in 
our  beloved  Fatherland.  You  see,  General,  there  is  no 
woman  but  delights  in  the  advancement  of  her  friends 
over  the  open  road  of  honor.  The  secret,  underground 
roads," — she  shook  her  head, — "  no,  they  are  not  for  a 
woman's  delight  in  her — friends.  They  may  be  neces- 
sary, but — they  are — underground." 

Her  purpose  was  better  achieved  than  perhaps  she 
knew.  At  the  same  time,  however,  she  was  incurring 
a  serious  risk  in  another  direction.  The  passions  of  this 
Prussian  were  easily  stirred.  They  had  been  stirred  be- 
fore when  he  had  been  younger,  when  perhaps  his  ex- 
perience had  not  inspired  him  with  so  much  of  the 
cynicism  and  selfishness  which  had  come  to  him  through 
the  ruthlessness  of  his  recent  campaigning.  His  ideals 
of  womanhood,  if  he  had  ever  really  possessed  any,  were 
now  completely  negligible.  Never  in  his  doctrine  could 
woman  be  anything  but  the  amusement  of  man.  This 
Princess  at  one  time  had  suggested  to  his  mind  a  means 
of  advancement  in  his  career.  Now  she  was  merely  the 


202  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

daughter  of  the  man  who  had  sought  to  injure  him,  a 
man  whom  he  was  convinced  was  a  traitor  to  his 
country.  She  was  even  something  more  than  merely 
his  daughter.  She  was  something  in  this  man's  schemes 
and  plans.  This  being  so,  he  was  left  without  compunc- 
tion regarding  her.  She  was  beautiful  and — a  woman. 
He  was  a  man.  Moreover  he  felt  that  his  was  the  power 
to  impress  his  will  upon  her  in  any  direction  he  chose. 
This  was  the  Prussian  who  ever  reckons  without  his  ad- 
versary. 

Von  Salzinger  settled  himself  in  a  comfortable  chair 
and  spread  out  his  legs,  while  Vita  pressed  an  electric 
bell. 

"  Maybe,"  he  said  drily.  "  But  those  underground 
channels  have  served  me  well — in  the  present  instance. 
So  I  can't  feel  as  you  do  towards  them.  Do  you  know, 
Princess,"  he  went  on,  with  greater  warmth,  "  the  sight 
of  you  last  night  left  me  no  longer  master  of  myself. 
Even  then  I  knew  where  to  find  you.  Seeing  you  again 
impelled  .me  here  to-day.  I  could  not  wait.  I  have 
come  here  to  England  in  my  first  leisure  to  see  you — in 
the  hopes  that  you  have  at  least  forgiven  if  not  forgotten 
our  last  meeting.  You  see,  I  was  so  much  younger  then, 
if  not  in  years  at  least  in  the  knowledge  of  those  things 
which  humanly  speaking  really  matter.  Four  years  1 
It  seems  a  lifetime  since  I  was  with  you." 

At  that  moment  the  man-servant  entered  with  the  tea- 
tray.  Ludwig  von  Salzinger  watched  him  curiously  as 
he  set  it  before  his  mistress,  in  front  of  the  crackling  log 
fire.  When  the  man  had  withdrawn  Vita  smiled  across  at 
him. 

"  Tea  ?  "  she  enquired.     "  It  is  British — this  tea  habit. 


THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN  203 

There  are  other  refreshments  if  you  prefer  them,  and — 
you  may  smoke.  We  have  the  house  to  ourselves.  I 
have  given  orders.  I  could  not  have  your  visit  dis- 
turbed by  the  possible  intrusion  of — neighbors." 

At  this  fresh  mark  of  the  woman's  cordiality  even  the 
cold  eyes  began  to  melt.  Von  Salzinger  was  rapidly 
abandoning  himself  to  the  pleasure  of  the  moment.  This 
woman  stirred  the  full  depths  of  passion  in  him.  None 
had  stirred  them  more  deeply.  He  admitted  it,  and, 
with  his  admission,  he  promised  himself  the  harvest  of 
the  power  that  was  his. 

He  accepted  a  cup  of  tea  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"  Then  perhaps  you  have  forgiven  the — past?  "  he  said, 
with  assurance. 

Vita  shrugged.     But  her  smile  was  radiant. 

"  We  all  make  mistakes  in — our  inexperience." 

"  Yes."  The  man  sipped  his  tea  noisily.  Then  for  a 
moment  he  stirred  it. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  went  on  abruptly.  "  It  is  four  years — 
nearly — since  you  told  me  all  you  felt  about — espionage. 
It  is  a  long  time  and  much  has  happened.  You  have 
many  friends  here  in  England.  Still  you  remain — simply 
the  daughter  of  your  father?  Am  I  rude?"  Vita  had 
glanced  over  at  him  swiftly,  seriously.  "  You  see  it  is 
much  to  me,  for — I  came  over  to  see  you." 

He  had  taken  care  that  she  should  have  no  misunder- 
standing of  his  meaning.  She  displayed  no  resentment, 
but  her  eyes  lowered  to  the  tea-things  she  was  manipulat- 
ing. The  man  abruptly  sat  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  I  must  say  what  is  on  my  mind.  It  is  my  way,  Vita. 
You  know  that  of  old.  I  saw  you  last  night  with  a  man, 
a  stranger  to  me.  And  " — he  smiled,  and  leant  more 


204  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

urgently  towards  her, — "  I  was  mad — mad  with  jealousy. 
I  did  not  know  him.  I  had  no  means  of  knowing  him, 
since  I  have  been  isolated  away  on  my  command,  and  I 
thought,  I  felt  convinced  he  was  your — lover.  Ach,  it 
made  me  mad — mad.  So  I  dared  not  delay.  I  must  see 
you  at  once — at  once  and  learn  the  truth  from  you.  You 
must  know,  Vita,  that  I  love  you  just  as  I  have  always 
loved  you.  All  the  rest — what  is  it  ?  My  position  ? 
Nothing.  Nothing  to  compare  with  my  love  for  you. 
Then  my  first  sight  of  you  after  all  this  time  is  with  that 
man — a  good-looking  man — in  the  car.  You  together — 
alone.  I  thought — oh,  I  was  convinced  he  was  your 
husband,  and  I — I  could  have  killed  him.  Will  you  tell 
me  of  him  ?  Is  he  ?  Is  he  your  lover  ?  You  must  tell 
me." 

Through  her  drooping  lashes  Vita  was  watching  him. 
There  was  a  curious  manner  in  the  man.  He  was  not 
pleading.  He  was  telling  her  of  his  feelings  as  though 
she  had  no  alternative  but  to  accept  them.  She  was 
alarmed,  but  gave  no  sign. 

She  decided  swiftly  upon  her  next  attitude.  It  must 
be  frankness.  She  must  keep,  hold  this  man,  and  con- 
vince him  that  she  had  nothing  to  do  with,  and  no  knowl- 
edge of,  Ruxton  Farlow's  movements.  If  she  failed  in 
this,  then 

She  laughed  musically,  a  deep,  soft  laugh.  The  eyes 
which  were  raised  to  Von  Salzinger's  were  full  of  amuse- 
ment. 

"  The  same  headstrong,  impetuous  Ludwig.  The  years 
have  not  changed  you,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head. 
"  Ruxton  Farlow  is  just  one  of  many  men  friends  I  have 
over  here.  You  cannot  expect  a  woman  of  my  position 


THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN  205 

to  live  the  life  of  a  nun.  I  dined  with  him  last  evening. 
When  we  encountered  you  he  was  driving  me  home  in 
his  car.  Have  I  committed  a  crime  ?  " 

"Here?" 

There  was  a  subtle  brutality  in  the  man's  monosyllable. 

Vita  flushed.  The  amusement  in  her  eyes  had  changed 
to  a  sparkle  of  anger.  She  shrugged. 

"  If  you  adopt  that  tone  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  on 
the  matter." 

The  man  realized  his  mistake  and  changed  his  tone  at 
once. 

"  Forgive  me,  Vita,"  he  cried  hastily.  "  It — it  is  jeal- 
ousy. I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  you  with  that  man — 
alone — or  any  other  man.  They  have  no  right  to  you. 
They  are  natural  enemies  of  our  country.  I — I  am  a 
Prussian,  and  you — you  belong  to  our  country.  Can  you 
not  understand  my  feelings  ?  Ach  1  It  is  maddening  to 
think." 

Vita's  smile  was  wholly  charming  as  she  glanced  at 
him  across  the  tea-table. 

"You  are  going  to  make  me  quarrel  with  you — again. 
And  I  don't  want  to  quarrel.  Tell  me — about  yourself 
and  your  affairs.  They  are  more  interesting.  Tell 
me  of  that  upward  path — of  that  high  command  you 
occupy." 

For  some  moments  Ludwig  von  Salzinger  did  not 
reply.  He  had  no  desire  to  change  the  subject.  His 
only  interest  in  Vita  was  her  beauty,  her  splendid  woman- 
hood ;  her  appeal  to  his  baser  senses.  His  hard  eyes 
regarded  her  unsmilingly  for  some  moments.  Then  his 
nature  drove  him  to  the  blunder  which  the  woman  had 
been  awaiting. 


206  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  My  affairs  have  no  interest  just  now,"  he  said,  almost 
sombrely. 

Vita  caught  at  his  reply  with  all  her  readiness. 

"  But  they  have — for  your  friends.  Your  old  friends," 
she  said,  with  well-assumed  earnestness. 

"  Have  they  ?  "  The  man  laughed  bitterly.  "  I  won- 
der." Again  his  greedy  eyes  had  settled  upon  her  with 
that  curious  regard  which  all  good  women  resent. 

At  last  Vita  threw  her  head  up  in  a  manner  which 
definitely  but  silently  made  her  protest  plain.  Von  Salz- 
inger  was  forced  to  speech. 

"  For  the  moment  the  upward  path  is  closed  to  me," 
he  admitted  coldly.  "  I  no  longer  occupy  my  command. 
Do — you  understand?" 

But  Vita  shook  her  head. 

In  a  moment  there  came  an  outburst  of  passion.  It 
was  the  outburst  of  a  headstrong  man,  which  robs  him  of 
half  his  power  in  more  delicate  situations. 

"  I  have  been  relieved  of  my  command,"  he  cried, 
springing  to  his  feet  and  standing  over  her  before  the 
little  tea-table.  "  For  the  moment  my  enemies  have 
triumphed.  But  it  will  not  be  for  long,"  he  went  on, 
working  himself  up  till  he  almost  forgot  whom  he  was 
addressing.  "  The  enemies  of  Ludwig  von  Salzinger  do 
not  triumph  for  long,  and  then  we  shall  see.  Oh,  yes,  we 
shall  see." 

Vita  nodded  sympathetically  up  at  the  passionate  face. 

"  And  you  came  to  London,  and,"  she  added  subtly, 
"  you  left  your  enemies  behind  you." 

The  man  flung  his  cigar  end  in  among  the  glowing 
logs  with  a  vicious  gesture. 

"  Some  of  them,"  he  cried  fiercely.     Then  he  abruptly 


THE  INERADICABLE  STRAIN  207 

recovered  himself.  He  began  to  laugh.  The  change 
was  awkward,  and  the  cunning  that  crept  into  his  eyes 
was  perfectly  apparent  to  Vita.  "  Yes,  I  leave  them  be- 
hind me,  where  we  are  told  to  put  all  evil  things.  London 
is  safer  for  me — at  present.  Besides,  does  it  not  bring 
me  to  your  side  ?  " 

Vita  had  learned  all  she  wanted  to  know  in  his  brief 
admission.  "  Some  of  them,"  he  had  flung  at  her  in  his 
unguarded  moment.  The  rest  of  it  had  no  interest  for 
her.  She  rose  from  her  chair,  and  forced  herself  to  a 
radiant  smile. 

"  You  are  too  deep  for  me,  Ludwig,"  she  cried,  pur- 
posely using  the  intimate  form  of  address.  "  But  no  one 
realizes  your  capacity  better  that  I.  I  have  known  you 
so  long.  You  will  fight  your  battles  successfully  I  am 
sure.  Must  you  be  going?" 

The  man  was  left  without  alternative.  He  had  not 
thought  of  departure  yet.  He  hesitated.  Then  he 
finally  held  out  a  hand.  Vita  only  too  readily  re- 
sponded. In  a  moment  his  hot  clasp  smothered  hers. 
His  eyes  narrowed  as  they  held  hers,  and  the  woman 
gathered  something  of  the  threat  behind  them. 

"  It  is  not  good  to  be  my  enemy,"  he  said  unpleas- 
antly. "Those  who  make  an  enemy  of  me  will  howl 
for  mercy  before  I  finish  with  them."  Then  his  manner 
lightened  to  a  tone  Vita  feared  even  more  than  the  other. 
"But  why  talk  of  these  things?  I  only  think  of  you — 
dream  of  you.  And  some  day,"  he  went  on,  still  retain- 
ing her  hand  in  his,  "  you  will  be — kind  to  me.  Eh  ? 
Is  it  not  so  ?  Surely — for  it  is  our  fate.  And  what  a 
fate  for  any  man,  my  Vita — my  beautiful  Vita.  It  will 
be — wonderful,  wonderful." 


208  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  woman  withdrew  her  hand  sharply.  She  could 
stand  no  more  of  it.  A  growing  terror  was  taking  pos- 
session of  her.  Von  Salzinger  laughed  as  he  released 
her  hand  with  a  final  pressure.  "  It  is  good-bye  now,  but 
I  shall  come  again,  and  then — again." 

Vita  was  standing  before  the  fire  gazing  down  into  its 
ruddy  depths.  The  tea-things  had  been  removed,  and 
she  was  alone.  She  was  glad.  She  was  relieved.  But 
she  was  not  dissatisfied  on  the  whole. 

She  felt  that  Von  Salzinger  was  a  greater  blunderer 
than  she  had  hoped.  She  knew  he  had  blundered  twice. 
He  had  blundered  in  visiting  her  at  all.  He  had  be- 
trayed his  whole  purpose  as  surely  as  though  he  had 
told  her  all  the  details  of  his  plans. 

But  with  her  satisfaction  was  a  deep  element  of  fear — 
personal  fear.  But  she  knew  it  was  a  fear — a  weakness 
— that  must  not  be  encouraged.  If  it  mastered  her  she 
would  be  left  powerless  to  carry  through  the  part  she 
felt  she  had  yet  to  play.  So  she  resolutely  thrust  it  from 
her.  Meanwhile,  her  first  duty  must  be  to  communicate 
with  her  father,  and  that — at  once. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

ENEMY  MOVEMENTS 

BUSY  days  crowded  upon  Ruxton  Farlow.  The  house 
in  Smith  Square  only  saw  him  at  night-time,  or  at  the 
political  breakfasts  which  had  become  so  great  a  fashion. 
The  affairs  of  his  portfolio  moved  automatically  with  but 
very  little  personal  attention  from  him,  and  so  he  was  left 
free  to  prosecute  his  own  more  secret  plans,  almost  with- 
out interruption. 

Apart  from  the  affairs  at  the  great  Dorby  works,  his 
chief  effort  was  a  campaign  of  proselytism  amongst  the 
few  of  great  position  in  the  nation's  affairs  whose  con- 
viction and  prejudice  must  be  overborne.  And  no  one 
knew  better  than  he  the  meaning  of  such  an  undertaking 
in  Britain. 

For  once,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
Great  Britain,  such  an  effort  had  been  made  possible 
through  the  reaction  from  ineptitude  to  the  splendid 
unity  and  enthusiasm  of  the  great  National  Party,  of 
which  he  was  a  member.  He  had  struck,  at  once,  be- 
fore the  simmering  down  to  conflict  of  influences  had  set 
in,  and  his  decision  and  judgment  had  not  been  without 
their  reward. 

So  his  hours  were  spent  in  close  communion  with  such 
men  as  Sir  Meeston  Harborough  and  the  Marquis  of 
Lordburgh ;  Sir  Joseph  Caistor  and  a  few  others  who 
headed  the  party.  Breakfasts  and  luncheons  were  his 


210  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

battle-fields.  But  week-ends  for  dilettante  golf  at  Dorby 
Towers,  which  frequently  developed  into  visits  to  the 
great  yards  at  Dorby  itself,  were  no  mean  factors  in  the 
success  of  his  efforts. 

It  was  from  a  luncheon  in  Downing  Street  that  he 
emerged  one  afternoon  on  foot  into  the  great  official 
thoroughfare  of  Whitehall.  It  had  been  a  very  small 
but  very  successful  function  from  his  point  of  view.  It 
had  followed '  upon  a  week-end  at  Dorby  Towers,  at 
which  the  President  of  the  Board  of  Admiralty,  Sir  Reg- 
inald Steele,  had  given  his  final  verdict  upon  the  new 
constructions  in  process  at  the  Dorby  yards.  It  had 
been  more  than  favorable.  It  had  very  nearly  ap- 
proached enthusiasm.  And  in  its  expression  Sir  Reg- 
inald had  swept  away  the  final  doubts  of  both  the  Prime 
Minister  and  the  Foreign  Secretary. 

Even  now,  as  he  swung  into  Whitehall  with  long  vig- 
orous strides,  the  Prime  Minister's  words  were  still  ring- 
ing in  his  ears. 

"  You  have  our  approval  and  support,  my  boy,"  he 
had  said  in  his  quick,  nervous  way.  "  Go  ahead,  and 
when  the  time  comes  do  not  hesitate  to  look  to  us.  We 
shall  do  everything  we  can  to  support  your  efforts ;  that 
is,"  he  added,  with  a  whimsical,  twinkling  smile,  "sub- 
ject, of  course,  to  the  permission  of  a  certain  section  of 
the  ha'penny  press." 

There  was  still  a  suggestion  of  summer  in  the  autumn 
air,  but  the  sky  had  lost  its  brilliancy,  and  the  inevitable 
grey  of  smoke  was  beginning  to  settle  upon  the  city. 
For  Ruxton,  however,  it  might  have  been  spring.  The 
vigor  of  his  gait,  his  delighted  feelings,  certainly  be- 
longed to  the  birth  rather  than  the  old  age  of  the  sum- 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  2ti 

mer.  He  saw  nothing  of  that  which  moved  and  passed 
about  him.  His  busy  thoughts  were  alive  only  with 
those  enthralling  concerns  which  were  his.  Nothing 
seemed  able  to  stir  him  out  of  his  abstraction  until  a 
street  arab  selling  papers,  who  had  recognized  him,  with 
the  humorous  effrontery  of  his  class  raised  a  newspaper 
poster  for  his  inspection,  and  almost  thrust  it  under  his 
nose. 

"  'Ere  y'are,  governor.  Better  'ave  one.  Kaiser  Bill 
an'  old  Tirps  scrappin'  it  out  in  the  Baltic." 

There  was  no  avoiding  it.  The  boy's  persistence  would 
not  be  denied.  Ruxton  glanced  at  the  contents  bill,  and 
a  startled  look  crept  into  his  eyes. 

"  HEAVY  FIRING  IN  THE  BALTIC 
MYSTERY  UNSOLVED  " 

Ruxton  purchased  a  paper  and  passed  on.  But  his 
eager  eyes  scanned  the  stop  press  paragraph  as  he  went. 
It  was  a  report  from  Copenhagen.  It  stated  that  heavy 
gunfire  had  been  heard  off  the  German  coast,  and  fisher- 
men stated  that  a  German  squadron  had  been  seen  twenty 
miles  from  land  engaged  in  what  appeared  to  be  a  heavy 
bombardment  of  some  object  in  the  water.  It  was  also 
stated  that  seaplanes  had  been  seen  to  be  dropping  bombs 
on  the  same  object.  Another  report,  from  a  German 
source,  stated  that  a  portion  of  the  fleet  had  been  en- 
gaged in  long-range  target  practice.  This  was  denied  in 
a  still  further  account  from  the  captain  of  one  of  the 
Baltic  ferries,  who  declared  that  no  target  had  been  visible 
to  those  on  his  vessel,  which  had  suddenly  found  itself  in 
the  danger  zone,  with  shells  dropping  in  the  water  within 
a  radius  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 


212  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

A  still  later  account  hinted  that  the  whole  thing  was  an 
attempt  to  sink  a  foreign  submarine  discovered  in  the  act 
of  espionage. 

It  was  this  final  paragraph  which  held  Ruxton's  atten- 
tion and  permanently  altered  the  whole  trend  of  his 
thoughts.  The  affairs  discussed  at  the  recent  luncheon 
had  been  abruptly  thrust  out  of  his  mind.  His  final 
triumph  over  prejudice  and  official  conservatism  seemed 
to  have  lost  its  meaning  for  the  moment  The  whole 
centre  of  his  interest  had  been  completely  transferred. 
He  was  gazing  out  across  the  sea,  a  grey,  dark,  troubled 
autumn  sea.  A  fierce  and  awe-inspiring  picture  filled  his 
focus.  A  squadron  of  battleships  ;  the  hawk-like  swoop- 
ing of  great  seaplanes  ;  a  small,  almost  indistinct  object 
bobbing  amongst  the  waves.  He  remembered  his  escape 
from  Borga.  Something  of  such  a  scene  had  been  acted 
there,  only  in  that  case  the  battleships  had  been  absent, 
and  in  their  place  had  been  guns  trained,  with  every  spot 
on  the  narrow  water  carefully  measured  out.  Was  this 
such  an  adventure  as  his  ?  He  could  not  tell.  But 

At  that  moment  he  hailed  a  passing  taxi,  and,  giving 
the  man  an  address  in  Kensington,  he  jumped  in. 

He  folded  up  his  paper  and  thrust  it  into  a  side  pocket, 
and,  with  the  sudden  change  of  environment,  his  thoughts 
underwent  a  third  development. 

Somewhere  in  the  west,  there,  he  knew  that  a  woman 
was  waiting  impatiently  for  his  news.  He  had  'phoned 
her  of  his  coming,  and  hinted  at  his  success.  Her  reply 
had  set  every  pulse  in  his  body  hammering  out  a  recip- 
rocal emotion. 

"  Of  course  you  have  succeeded,"  she  had  replied. 
"  The  rapidity  with  which  you  have  done  so  only  the 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  213 

more  surely  points  my  original  conviction.  You  cannot 
fail.  I  shall  be  in  Kensington  until  a  late  hour." 

The  invitation  had  been  irresistible  to  a  man  of  Rux- 
ton's  temperament.  He  snatched  at  it  with  an  almost 
boyish  impulse,  determined  to  lose  no  moment  of  com- 
munion with  this  wonderful  creature  whose  attractions 
had  so  overwhelmed  the  youth  that  was  in  him.  He 
knew  that  whatever  the  future  might  hold  for  him  there 
could  be  nothing  comparable  with  the  wonderful  stirring 
which  the  bare  thought  of  her  created  in  him. 

As  he  drove  along  her  image  was  before  his  smiling 
dark  eyes.  The  grey  glory  of  her  deeply  fringed  eyes 
had  a  power  to  thrill  him  as  nothing  else  in  life  could. 
Her  beautiful,  oval  face,  so  full  of  a  power  to  express 
every  emotion,  suggested  to  him  the  mirror-like  surface  of 
a  sunlit  lake  reflecting  the  wonders  of  a  perfect  life.  The 
radiance  of  her  smile  alone  seemed  to  him  worth  living  for. 

The  heart  of  the  man  had  been  unloosed  from  the  bond- 
age of  early  restraint.  Now  it  was  a-riot,  claiming  in  its 
freedom  an  excess  of  interest  for  its  years  of  deprivation. 
He  had  no  power  nor  desire  to  check  it.  It  was  as  though 
a  new  life  had  opened  out  before  eyes  which  had  all  too 
long  confronted  the  sober  grey  of  mere  existence,  a  life 
which  had  been  hidden  behind  a  dark  curtain  raised  at 
last  only  to  dazzle  and  amaze. 

Mrs.  Jenkins,  a  hard-faced  lady  with  a  sniff,  who  had 
undoubtedly  seen  "  worse  "  days,  had  performed  her  duty 
as  only  a  superior  British  char-lady-turned-cook-house- 
keeper could  have  possibly  performed  it.  She  had  re- 
garded Ruxton  Farlow  on  the  door-step  of  Vita's  flat  for  a 
few  speculative  moments.  Then  she  sniffed. 


214  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Name  of  Farlow,  ain't  it  ?     She's  in." 

Then,  shuffling  down  the  passage,  she  thrust  her  head 
through  the  doorway  of  the  sitting-room  and  sniffed  again. 

"  It's  'im,  miss,"  she  announced,  and  beat  a  strategical 
retreat  to  the  back  regions  of  the  flat,  with  the  virtuous 
conviction  that  she  had  performed  her  duty  in  a  manner 
which  might  well  have  been  an  example  to  a  superior 
parlor-maid,  or  even  a  well-trained  footman. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  necessity  for  greeting  between 
Vita  and  Ruxton  Farlow.  For  the  man  it  was  as  if 
Vita  had  become  a  part  of  his  life,  as  though  she  were 
always  with  him,  ready  to  support  him  at  every  turn, 
ready  to  lead  him  on  towards  those  great  ideals  which 
were  his. 

Just  now  the  commonplaces  of  social  intercourse  had 
no  meaning  for  Vita.  She  drew  an  armchair  from  its 
inevitable  place  beside  the  cold  fireplace,  and  faced  it 
towards  the  window,  flinging  the  meagre  cushion  aside, 
so  useless  to  a  man's  comfort. 

"  Take  that  chair,"  she  said,  with  a  warm  smile  of  wel- 
come. "  You  may  smoke,  too ;  I'd  like  you  to.  And 
there  is  refreshment  on  the  table  beside  you."  Then  she 
seated  herself  upon  a  low  chair  in  the  vicinity.  "  Now 
tell  me,"  she  added,  as  Ruxton  flung  himself  into  the 
doubtful  armchair  with  a  contented  sigh. 

"  Tell  you  ?  "  he  returned,  with  a  smile  in  his  dark  eyes. 

Then  for  some  moments  he  was  silent,  contemplating 
the  perfect  oval  of  her  face,  the  masses  of  her  red-gold 
hair ;  the  wonderful  grace  of  the  exquisitely  clad  body 
But  under  his  gaze  her  warm  grey  eyes  were  hidden. 
She  felt  the  ardor  of  the  man's  regard,  nor  did  it  leave 
her  unmoved. 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  215 

"There  ought  to  be  a  lot  to  tell  you — there  is  a  lot," 
he  said  presently,  in  a  half- abstracted  manner.  "  And 
yet " 

"  Begin  at  the  beginning,"  she  helped  him,  and  his 
eyes  were  caught  in  the  upward  glance  of  the  wonder- 
ful grey,  so  eager,  so  clear,  and  yet  so  full  of  simple 
purpose. 

"  The  beginning  ? "  Ruxton  smiled.  "  It  makes  it 
the  harder."  He  shook  his  head.  "  No  man  can  tell  a 
woman  the  beginning.  There  is  no  beginning.  It  just 
comes  along  without  his  knowing  it,  and,  in  a  moment, 
he  is  caught  in  mid-tide  and  borne  along." 

Vita's  eyes  were  gazing  up  into  the  strong  face  in  some 
doubt.  She  was  demanding  the  story  of  his  success. 
Something  she  beheld  in  the  man's  dark  eyes  made  her 
lower  her  own,  and  she  found  herself  powerless  to  urge 
him  further.  An  absurdly  chaotic  feeling  had  suddenly 
taken  possession  of  her,  and  amidst  that  chaos  was  a 
great  and  wonderful  dread  that  had  nothing  fearful  or 
terrifying  in  it.  Yet  the  dread  was  there,  a  dread  which 
urged  her  to  flee  from  his  presence,  and  hide  herself 
somewhere,  whither  he  could  not  follow.  But  opposed 
to  such  feeling  was  a  fascination  which  held  her  waiting, 
waiting  upon  his  words. 

Her  attitude  conveyed  something  of  the  emotions  his 
words  had  inspired,  but  Ruxton  was  incapable  of  inter- 
preting them.  He  was  absorbed  in  the  triumph  of  his 
own  feelings.  His  success  in  affairs  of  that  day  had  in- 
toxicated him.  And  their  outcome  was  a  wild  desire  to 
go  further  and  crown  them  with  the  achievement  of  the 
passion  of  love  which  had  set  fire  to  his  soul.  He  yearned 
for  the  love  of  this  woman,  and  such  was  the  impetuous 


216  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

tide  let  loose  that  there,  and  now,  he  must  stake  his  whole 
future  happiness  on  one  single  throw.  Caution  had  no 
place  when  his  passionate  heart  was  stirred.  Caution, 
and  all  its  concomitants,  were  for  the  business  of  life.  In 
the  emotional  side  of  him  they  had  no  place,  they  could 
never  have  place. 

"  I  may  be  mad,  I  may  be  dreaming,"  he  cried,  sud- 
denly springing  to  his  feet  and  confronting  the  woman 
he  loved  with  eyes  grown  darker  with  the  sudden  in- 
tensity of  his  feelings.  "  I  may  be  mad  to  risk  forever 
losing  a  companionship  which  has  become  so  great  a  part 
of  my  life,  so  vital  to  my  whole  existence.  I  may  be 
dreaming  to  believe,  or  hope,  that  my  longings  can  ever 
reach  fulfillment.  But  I  cannot  help  it.  It  is  not  in  me 
to  act  otherwise.  The  soul-mate  of  a  man  either  belongs 
to  him,  or  is  denied  to  him,  as  the  great  controlling  forces 
ordain.  For  thirty-five  years  I  have  walked  through  life 
alone.  I  have  seen  no  woman  whose  companionship  I 
desired,  or  could  desire,  during  all  that  time.  Never 
once  in  all  that  time  have  the  soul-fires  in  me  been  stirred. 
Never  once  have  I  longed  for  the  warm  heart  of  a  woman 
to  beat  in  unison  with  mine.  Then  came  a  night — a 
mentally  black  and  dreary  night — when  the  work  seemed 
desolate,  and  existence  a  condition  almost  intolerable 
in  the  future.  The  darkest  thoughts  of  my  life  passed 
through  my  hot  brain  that  night ;  darker  even  than  the 
thoughts  during  the  darkest  days  of  the  great  war.  That 
moment  was  the  one  that  preceded  dawn — my  dawn. 

"  Ah,  Vita,"  he  went  on,  with  deeper,  more  vibrant 
meaning.  "  That  dawn  came  like  the  miracle  of  every 
other  dawn.  But,  unlike  the  dawn  which  heralds  mere 
sunrise,  it  heralded  an  eternity  of  beautiful  dreams  un- 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  217 

touched  by  the  bitternesses  and  contentions  of  the  human 
day.  It  came  with  a  voice  out  of  the  moonlit  darkness. 
The  voice  of  a  woman,  who,  within  a  space  of  time  almost 
negligible,  had  changed  the  despairing  blackness  of  night 
to  a — wonderful  dawn." 

Ruxton  turned  from  her  and  began  to  pace  the  narrow 
length  of  the  room.  It  was  an  unstudied  expression  of 
the  fierce  fire  which  had  leapt  up  in  his  passionate,  Sla- 
vonic heart.  Vita's  eyes  followed  his  movements,  fasci- 
nated yet  unseeing  in  the  tumult  which  he  had  roused 
within  her.  For  her  his  words,  his  sudden  outburst,  had 
reduced  to  concrete  form  all  that  gamut  of  feeling  which 
had  been  hers  from  the  moment  of  their  first  encounter. 
All  unacknowledged,  the  latent  power  of  this  man's  per- 
sonality had  absorbed  her  every  feeling.  He  was  the  one 
out  of  all  the  world.  His  handsome  head,  his  superb 
body,  so  strong,  so  perfectly  poised,  but  above  all  that 
wonderful  idealism  which  saw  so  clearly  through  the  fog 
of  sordid  influences  which  clogged  all  real  progress.  Al- 
most breathless  she  waited  while  he  went  on. 

He  paused  in  his  walk  and  abruptly  flung  out  his  arms. 

"  I  can  see  her  now,  a  figure  of  perfect  beauty,  regal, 
splendid  in  the  silvery  moonlight.  The  light  playing 
upon  her  marbled  features,  finding  reflection  in  eyes  wide 
with  sincerity,  truth  and  passion.  Vita,  Vita,  I  can  never 
tell  you  all  that  picture  inspired  in  me.  Suddenly  I  knew 
what  life  meant.  Up  till  then  I  had  merely  existed.  Life 
had  had  no  meaning  for  me  but  the  necessity  of  working 
out  that  simple  duty  of  effort  which  belongs  to  us  all. 
With  your  coming  everything  changed.  Life  became  at 
once  that  superb  thing  of  which  the  dreamer  speaks. 
Where  before  only  the  black  shadows  of  a  drear  depres- 


218  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

sion  had  been,  at  once  life  became  flooded  with  a  golden 
light.  It  was  beautiful,  beautiful." 

The  woman's  wondering  gaze  was  now  frankly  held  by 
the  passionate  eyes  regarding  her.  She  had  no  power  to 
withdraw  it,  she  had  no  desire  to  withdraw  it.  Her 
cheeks  were  flushed.  Her  lips  were  parted,  revealing 
the  pearly  whiteness  of  her  teeth  framed  in  their  ruby 
setting,  so  full,  so  ripe. 

"  But  this  is  madness,"  she  breathed  without  con- 
viction. It  was  the  burden  of  her  feelings  seeking  ex- 
pression. She  leant  forward  in  her  chair,  her  hands  so 
tightly  clasped  that  the  blood  was  pressed  back  from  her 
delicate  finger-tips,  and  the  simple  rings  dug  hard  into 
the  tender  flesh. 

"  Madness  ?  Madness  ? "  Ruxton  drew  nearer.  He 
laughed  as  he  echoed  the  word.  It  was  the  inconse- 
quent laugh  which  is  merely  an  audible  expression  and 
possesses  no  meaning.  "  If  it  is  madness  let  me  be  mad. 
Madness  ?  Then  I  never  want  sanity  again.  Love  is 
madness,  Vita,  a  madness  that  is  ordained,  and  without 
it  love  can  never  be  love.  The  man  who  can  pause  to 
reason  does  not  know  love.  He  can  never  love.  Leave 
reason  and  sanity  for  the  cold  affairs  of  life.  Love  can 
know  no  check  from  such  a  course.  That  is  how  I  love 
you,  Vita.  I  want  you — you.  I  want  you  always  with 
me,  near  me.  I  want  you  so  that  our  life  together  is 
all  one.  You  must  be  part  of  me.  You  must  be  me. 
You  speak  of  the  beginning.  There  is  no  beginning, 
just  as  there  can  be  no  end.  Love  is  all,  everything. 
Vita— Vita " 

He  had  bent  down  from  his  great  height.  He  had 
seized  the  woman's  tightly  clasped  hands.  He  had 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  219 

raised  them  with  gentle  force,  and,  as  though  caught 
by  the  magnetism  of  all  the  love  he  had  endeavored 
to  express,  she  rose  to  her  feet,  and  permitted  him  to 
hold  her  prisoner  before  him. 

But  now  with  his  final  appeal  the  tension  seemed  to 
relax.  She  stood  there  for  a  moment,  silent.  Then 
she  sighed  faintly.  It  was  as  though  she  had  awakened 
from  some  beautiful  dream.  The  flush  on  her  oval 
cheeks  lessened,  and  the  light  in  her  eyes  changed  un- 
mistakably. The  man  seemed  to  become  suddenly  aware 
of  the  change,  and  a  note  of  apprehension  sounded  in 
his  voice  as  he  repeated  his  appeal. 

"  Vita — Vita,"  he  cried,  with  a  passion  of  yearning  in 
the  words. 

The  woman  shook  her  head,  but  her  hands  remained 
captive. 

"  No,  no  1  It  can't  be.  It  is  too  beautiful,  too  good  to 
be  real.  Not  in  this  life.  This  life  in  which  there  is  no 
peace — nothing  that  is — beautiful.  Besides " 

"  Besides  ?  " 

Again  Vita  shook  her  head.  This  time  she  gently 
released  her  hands.  Ruxton  contemplated  her.  Some- 
thing in  her  manner  was  restoring  his  control  of  him- 
self. 

"  We  cannot — we  dare  not  think  of— ourselves  now," 
Vita  went  on.  "  A  time  may  come  when — but  not  now. 
We  must  not  pause — nor  step  aside." 

Each  word  appeared  to  be  an  effort.  It  was  as  though 
she  were  fighting  temptation  in  a  forlorn  hope.  Ruxton 
saw  it.  He  understood,  and  his  whole  Slavonic  passion 
took  fire  again.  Quite  suddenly  his  two  great  hands 
fell  upon  the  woman's  rounded  shoulders,  and  his  strong 


220  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

fingers  held  the  soft  flesh  firmly.  Her  face  was  turned 
up  to  his  in  a  startled  fashion,  wondering  but  unresentful. 
His  passion-lit  eyes  gazed  deeply  down  into  hers. 

"  Vita,  my  Vita,  these  protests  are  not  you.  They  are 
the  brave  and  loyal  spirit  seeking  to  abnegate  those 
selfish  claims  which  in  my  case  are  irresistible.  You — 
you  will  love  me.  You  do  love  me !  I  can  see  it  in 
your  eyes — now.  God,  was  there  ever  so  wonderful 
a  sight  for  man  ?  Tell  me.  Forget  all  else  and  tell  me 
of  it.  I  am  hungry — starving  for  the  love  you  can  give 
me.  I  will  not  wait.  I  dare  not.  I  love  you  with  all 
that  is  in  me.  I  love  you  beyond  all  earthly  duties  and 
cares.  Tell  me  all  that  lies  behind  your  beautiful  eyes, 
hidden  deep  down  in  your  dear  woman's  heart." 

Vita  was  powerless.  She  was  utterly  powerless  to 
resist  the  torrent  of  the  love  that  leapt  from  him  and 
overwhelmed  her.  All  her  protests  died  within  her. 
She  imperceptibly  drew  closer  to  him,  and,  in  a  mo- 
ment, she  lay  crushed  in  his  arms,  her  face  hidden 
against  his  broad  shoulder,  the  perfume  of  her  hair 
intoxicating  him  still  further.  His  head  bent  down 
against  it  and  his  lips  rained  caresses  upon  it.  Then, 
in  a  second,  one  hand  was  raised  and  he  lifted  her  face 
from  its  hiding-place  so  that  his  eyes  gazed  full  upon 
it.  Then,  lower  his  face  bent  towards  hers,  and  in  a 
ravishing  silence  their  lips  met,  and  held  for  long,  long 
moments. 

The  evening  shadows  were  softly  drawing  their  veil 
about  them.  The  plain  little  room  had  lost  its  crude- 
ness  of  outline.  Ruxton  was  seated  in  the  armchair 
which  had  been  set  for  him,  and  Vita  was  crouching 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  221 

curled  up  on  the  cushion  on  the  floor  close  beside  him. 
Ruxton  was  smoking  now.  He  had  been  smoking  for 
some  minutes.  Vita  was  listening  to  the  voice  she 
loved,  and  occasionally  interrupted  it  with  a  question 
or  comment. 

He  had  just  completed  the  story  of  his  success,  and  her 
delight  in  it  had  held  the  woman  forgetful  of  those  things 
she  had  yet  to  tell  to  him. 

But  now,  in  the  silence  which  had  followed,  a  flood  of 
recollection  spread  over  her.  She  searched  for  a  begin- 
ning with  a  brave  desire  to  reveal  as  little  of  the  disquiet 
which  haunted  her  as  possible. 

"  I  have  no  such  success  to  recount,"  she  said  at  last, 
gazing  up  at  the  strong  face  above  her  with  a  tender 
smile  of  confidence.  "  I  have  heard  from  Von  Salzinger, 
as  I  knew  I  should  after  that  evening  in — the  car." 

"  Ah  ! " 

Ruxton  laid  a  hand  firmly  over  one  of  Vita's,  which 
rested  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.  It  was  a  gesture  which 
had  in  it  all  a  strong  man's  promise  of  protection.  To 
Vita  it  conveyed  a  sensation  of  exquisite  reassurance. 

"  Oh,  it  all  seems  so  futile,"  she  cried,  with  a  sudden 
helplessness.  "I  mean  when  you  think  of  the  terrible 
Secret  Service  which  seems  to  know  everything.  No  one 
in  England  except  ourselves  knows  of  such  a  person  as 
Valita  von  Hertzwohl.  As  for  my  home,  only  my  father 
knows  that.  I  have  kept  it  secret  even  from  you.  And 
yet  this  Von  Salzinger  comes  to  England  and — calls  upon 
me.  The  refuge  I  had  so  carefully  prepared  for  my  fa- 
ther in  case  of  emergency  is — no  refuge  at  all.  I  believe 
I  am  terrified." 

"  Tell  me  more."     Ruxton  leant  forward  in  his  chair. 


222  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

All  satisfaction  at  the  thought  of  his  own  affairs  had  died 
out  of  his  expressive  eyes.  They  were  full  of  concern 
and  sympathy  for  the  woman  he  loved.  "  Where  is  this 
home  ?  I  had  better  know — now." 

Vita  smiled  tenderly.  His  trifling  emphasis  on  the 
final  word  helped  to  banish  something  of  her  fears.  It 
was  the  reminder  of  the  bond  between  them. 

"  It  is  the  sweetest  of  aged  Elizabethan  farms  in  Buck- 
inghamshire. It  is  called  Red  withy  Farm,  and  is  less 
than  two  miles  from  Wednesford.  It  is  the  most  roman- 
tically beautiful  place  you  could  find  anywhere,  small, 
but — I  love  it."  She  sighed  deeply.  "  I  was  out  riding 
when  he  called.  I  had  no  alternative  but  to  see  him." 

"  Why  ?  "  The  man's  earnest  gaze  was  steady.  His 
alert  mind  was  seeking  something,  nor  did  he  know  the 
nature  of  what  he  sought. 

"  Because  Vassilitz  had  admitted  him  in  my  absence. 
He  had  no  right  to,  but — he  did.  I  cannot — but  it 
doesn't  matter  now.  I  simply  dared  not  refuse  to  see 
him,  so  I  affected  cordiality  and — gave  him  tea." 

Ruxton  made  an  impatient  movement. 

"  Who  is  Vassilitz  ?  What  is  he  ?  "  he  demanded  in  a 
level  tone. 

"  My  butler.  He  is  a  Pole — a  German  Pole.  All  my 
servants  are  Poles.  I  have  known  them  all  my " 

"Ah.  And  you  marvel  at  the  power  of  the  Secret 
Service  ?  " 

The  gravity  of  her  lover's  tone  startled  Vita.  But  she 
could  not  credit  his  suspicion. 

"  But  I  have  known  them  all  my  life.  They  are  de- 
voted to  me  and  mine." 

"  Then  I  should  know  them  no  longer.     But  tell  me  of 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  223 

Von  Salzinger.  He  has  found  you  out.  It  does  not 
much  matter  how.  The  purpose  of  his  visit.  That  is 
the  important  matter." 

It  was  some  moments  before  Vita  replied.  A  fresh 
terror  was  slowly  taking  possession  of  her.  After  a 
while,  however,  she  pulled  herself  together  with  an  effort. 

"  He  told  me  it  was  to  see  me.  I  have  told  you  that 
years  ago  he  made  love  to  me.  He  pretended  his  visit 
was — to  see  me." 

"  Pretended  ?  " 

A  furious  jealousy  was  suddenly  taking  possession  of 
Ruxton.  Only  by  a  powerful  self-control  was  he  keeping 
it  under.  Vita  understood  by  the  tone  of  his  enquiry, 
and  hastily  sought  to  set  his  doubts  at  rest. 

"  Oh,  but  he  is  a  loathsome  creature."  Then  she 
turned  to  him  and  looked  up  into  his  dark  eyes.  "  Rux- 
ton, dear,"  she  appealed,  "  never,  never,  never  believe 
anything  but  that  I  loathe  and  fear  that  man." 

The  demon  of  jealousy  died  out  of  the  man's  eyes  and 
he  smiled. 

"  I  never  will  believe  otherwise,  Vita,"  he  reassured 
her.  "  Now  tell  me." 

After  that  Vita  told  her  story  briefly  and  simply.  But 
at  its  conclusion  she  asseverated  her  conviction  emphat- 
ically. 

"  He  was  lying.  It  was  patent  to  me.  If  he  desired 
to  make  love  to  me  it  was  incidental.  He  came  because 
he  and  the  rest  of  them  are  in  hot  pursuit  of  the  Borga 
affair.  He  is  over  here  to  fight  to  retrieve  the  position 
from  which  we  know  he  has  fallen.  What  they  will  do, 
what  they  can  do — here — I  cannot  imagine.  But  they 
are  so  subtle — so  subtle." 


224  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Again  that  haunting  fear  had  come  back  to  her  eyes 
Ruxton  pressed  her  hand  gently. 

"  I  think  you  are  wrong,  dear,"  he  said  firmly.  "I  am 
sure  of  it.  As  you  say,  they  are  subtle.  I  am  convinced 
his  visit  to  you  was — for  you."  Ruxton's  eyes  had  grown 
darker,  and  his  brows  drew  together.  Apprehension  was 
stirring,  but  it  was  apprehension  for  Vita.  "  You  must 
not  receive  him  again.  I  do  not  think  it  safe  for  you 
down  there.  I  should  give  the  place  up — temporarily. 
Anyway  it  can  be  no  safe  refuge  for  your " 

He  broke  off  and  sat  up  with  a  start.  His  caressing 
hand  was  drawn  from  hers  with  a  suddenness  that  com- 
municated some  further  anxiety  to  the  woman.  She 
watched  him,  searching  his  face  while  his  hands  groped  in 
the  side  pockets  of  his  coat. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  demanded,  with  a  sharp  intake  of 
breath. 

For  reply  Ruxton  withdrew  a  newspaper  folded,  and 
held  it  out  to  her,  pointing  at  the  stop  press  paragraph  on 
the  outside  .fold. 

"  Read  it,"  he  said  urgently. 

She  stood  up  and  moved  to  the  window  for  better  light. 
He  watched  her  while  she  read. 

"  Can  it  be ?"  he  demanded,  leaving  his  sentence 

unfinished. 

Vita  looked  up  at  last.  Her  eyes  were  wide.  A 
stunned  look  was  in  them.  Her  parched  lips  moved. 

"  Do  you  think  it's  father  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Do  you  think 
he  has  got  away?"  Then,  with  a  sudden  appealing 
gesture :  "  Oh,  say  you  do." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE  CROUCH   OF  THE  TIGER 

JOHANN  STRYJ  had  departed  as  silently  and  undemon- 
stratively  as  he  had  come.  The  chief  spy  was  a  born 
master  of  his  craft.  The  only  matter  in  which  Nature 
had  been  less  kind  to  him  in  his  fitness  for  the  work  he 
had  imposed  upon  himself  was  in  the  slightly  furtive  rest- 
lessness of  his  eyes.  Otherwise  the  ideal  had  been 
achieved.  His  whole  air  of  simple  inoffensiveness  left 
nothing  to  be  desired. 

Von  Salzinger  admitted  these  things  to  himself,  in  spite 
of  the  morose  venom  which  the  man's  report  upon  Dorby 
had  inspired. 

This  venomous  mood,  however,  was  not  directed  against 
his  helper.  It  was  inspired  by  his  realization  that  his 
own  purpose  had  been  made  more  difficult  of  achieve- 
ment. He  had  discovered  that  his  efforts  were  not 
directed  against  private  individuals,  but  against  the 
British  naval  authority,  an  authority  he  had  reason  to 
know  had  nothing  of  the  ineptitude  of  other  departments 
of  the  Government. 

Thus  he  sat  back  in  the  largest  and  most  comfortable 
chair  in  his  private  sitting-room,  with  his  trunk-like  legs 
supported  upon  a  smaller  chair,  and  divided  his  savage 
mood  between  outlining  the  report  he  must  now  make 
to  Berlin  and  the  devouring  of  the  contents  of  a  large 
bier-stein,  which  stood  on  the  table  within  reach. 


226  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

He  had  nearly  succeeded  in  achieving  his  double  pur- 
pose, and  incidentally  relieving  his  unpleasant  mood,  when 
a  diversion  occurred  in  the  form  of  a  telephone  summons 
from  the  hotel  office  below. 

A  visitor  for  him.  Name  of  Von  Berger.  Would  he 
see  him  at  once  ? 

Yes,  Ludwig  von  Salzinger  would  be  pleased  to  see  him 
at  once.  This  is  what  he  'phoned  down.  To  himself  he 
cursed  bitterly  in  homely  Prussian  adjectives. 

Von  Berger  was  the  last  person  he  wanted  to  see  in 
England  until  the  outcome  of  his  work  was  assured.  This 
man's  coming  suggested  all  sorts  of  vague  and  disquieting 
thoughts.  With  Von  Berger  in  England  he  would  no 
longer  be  a  free  agent.  He  would  be  forced  to  yield  the 
conduct  of  affairs  to  another — a  man  whom  he  felt  had 
neither  friendliness  nor  mercy  for  any  soul  on  earth.  He 
was  more  than  disquieted.  He  was  awed,  and  not  a  little 
apprehensive. 

The  latter  was  displayed  in  an  almost  schoolboy  action 
that  was  pathetically  humorous.  He  quickly  removed 
his  bier-stein — and  concealed  it. 

The  entrance  of  Von  Berger  was  characteristic  of  the 
frigid,  unyielding  aspect  he  displayed  at  all  times.  No 
one  could  have  encountered  this  personality  and  detected 
one  soft  spot  in  the  whole  of  its  make-up.  It  was  almost 
as  if  something  of  the  iron  of  his  native  Baltic  shores  had 
been  bred  into  him  through  the  ages  of  his  ruthless 
ancestry.  No  iceberg  in  the  northern  reaches  of  his 
native  inland  sea  could  have  gleamed  more  coldly  bright 
than  his  hard  eyes.  No  ice-bound  crag  could  have  been 
cut  more  sharply  than  the  thin  compressed  lips  of  his  set 
mouth. 


THE  CROUCH  OF  THE  TIGER  227 

He  entered  the  room  with  cold  assurance.  He  pos- 
sessed himself  of  the  chair  which  had  supported  Von 
Salzinger's  legs,  and  occupied  it  without  invitation.  He 
indicated  the  armchair  beside  which  Von  Salzinger  was 
standing,  with  the  certainty  of  authority.  And  the  lesser 
man  sat  in  it,  obedient  to  his  visitor's  lightest  command. 
There  was  no  greeting  between  them. 

Von  Berger's  keen  eyes  searched  the  room.  For  a 
moment  they  rested  upon  the  door  which  shut  off  the 
other's  bedroom. 

"  That  door  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  My  bedroom,  Excellency." 

"  Ah  !     Admission  that  way  ?  " 

"  I  keep  the  outer  door  locked." 

The  cold  eyes  surveyed  the  windows.  They  were 
closed.  Then  his  regard  came  back  to  the  heavy  square 
face  of  his  host. 

"  Von  Hertzwohl  has — escaped." 

There  was  no  emphasis  ;  no  heat  of  any  sort.  The  lips 
moved,  and  the  pronouncement  was  made.  That  was  all. 

Von  Salzinger  started.  Then  a  half-smile  grew  in  his 
eyes.  In  a  vague  way  he  realized  that  the  Prince's  flight 
was  a  triumph  and  vindication  for  himself.  But  his  mo- 
mentary satisfaction  was  damped  by  the  cold  voice  of  his 
visitor. 

"  On  receipt  of  your  report  that  you  had  discovered 
the  identity  of  the  man  who  visited  Borga,  vigilance  was 
redoubled.  For  obvious  reasons  we  had  no  desire  to  ar- 
rest him  until  more  definite  news  was  received.  He  had 
no  suspicion  that  he  was — observed.  Then,  suddenly  he. 
disappeared.  We  picked  up  his  tracks.  He  had  escaped 
by  sea  in  his  submersible.  Our  squadron  very  nearly 


228  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

effected  his  capture.  However,  he  escaped.  He  must 
have  received  news  from — here.  He  is  probably  making 
for — here.  Have  you  any  additional  report  to  make  ?  " 

Von  Salzinger  cleared  his  throat.  He  sat  up.  The 
veins  stood  out  upon  his  square  temples.  His  momen- 
tary satisfaction  was  completely  gone.  In  its  place  was 
a  sickening  apprehension  that  his  enemy  was  slipping 
through  his  ringers,  and  in  doing  so  it  seemed  more  than 
likely  he  might  contrive  to  make  his,  Von  Salzinger's, 
position  even  less  favorable  with  Berlin. 

"  Yes,  Excellency.  I  was  about  to  write  one  when  I 
received  the  telephone  message  of  your  arrival." 

"  Let  me  have  the  details  quickly  and  briefly." 

"  In  the  yards  at  Dorby  in  Yorkshire,  owned  by  Farlow, 
Son  and  Farlow — Ruxton  Farlow  is  a  partner — certain 
portions  of  them  have  been  taken  over  by  the  British  Ad- 
miralty. But  these  portions  are  not  being  used  for  naval 
purposes.  They  are  constructing  a  new  type  of  mer- 
cantile submersible  from  foreign  plans,  which  have  only 
very  recently  come  to  England.  The  submersible  por- 
tion of  these  vessels  is  the  principle  perfected  by  Hertz- 
wohl  in  our  naval  submarines.  The  rest  of  them  is  an 
entirely  new  design.  But  the  complete  boat  is  the  de- 
sign of — one  man." 

"  Hertzwohl." 

"  That  is  how  I  read  it." 

"The  object  of  naval  authority  in  these  yards  is ?" 

"  Security  and  secrecy." 

"  Which  proves  the  plans  have  either  been  stolen  or 
traitorously  acquired,  and  they  fear  interference  and — 
reprisal." 

Von  Salzinger  nodded. 


THE  CROUCH  OF  THE  TIGER  229 

"And  this  information?"  Von  Berger's  enquiry  came 
with  even  colder  incisiveness. 

"  We  have  men  working  in  the  shops.  We  have  one 
man  in  the  drawing  office.  All  hands,  even  the  clerical 
staff  of  these  departments,  work  under  oath  of  secrecy, 
and  naval  discipline."  Von  Salzinger  smiled  contemptu- 
ously. "  This,  however,  does  not  impede  our  flow  of  in- 
formation. The  man  in  the  drawing  office  has  discovered 
that  the  plans  are  shortly  to  be  photographed  by  the 
naval  authorities.  Further,  they  are  testing  a  new  light 
which  seems  to  correspond  with  our  new  U-rays,  which 
was  found  to  be  defective  by  us,  and  the  vital  parts  of 
which  Hertzwohl  removed  on  his  last  visit  to  Borga.  If 
this  light  should  prove  to  be  identical  with  the  U-rays  it 
suggests  a  further  conspiracy.  Hertzwohl  contrived  its 
faultiness  himself,  and  seized  the  opportunity  of  removing 
the  vital  parts  of  the — only — lamp  we  possessed.  It  sug- 
gests that  the  whole  thing  was  carefully  planned  and 
carried  out  by — Hertzwohl." 

The  only  sign  from  Von  Berger  was  a  curious  flicker 
of  the  eyelids.  The  unyielding  expression  of  his  keen 
face  never  varied  for  one  moment 

"This  man  Farlow — Ruxton  Farlow?" 

Von  Salzinger  shook  his  head. 

"  For  the  moment  he  is  beyond  our  reach.  He  is  a 
Minister  in  the  British  Cabinet." 

"  Yes." 

For  some  moments  neither  spoke.  Von  Salzinger 
watched  this  man  whom  he  feared  more  than  any  man 
in  Berlin.  He  was  wondering  at  the  activity  behind 
those  cold  eyes.  He  was  speculating  as  to  the  direction 
in  which  that  force  would  drive.  He  labored  under  no 


230  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

delusion.  The  conduct  of  this  affair  was  to  be  removed 
from  his  hands.  It  was  an  added  bitterness,  but  a  certain 
relief  left  it  not  without  compensation.  If  this  matter 
were  successfully  dealt  with,  no  matter  by  whom,  it  must 
redound  to  his  advantage. 

Von  Berger  did  not  leave  him  long  in  doubt. 

"  It  may  be  possible  to  destroy  those  plans — before 
they  are  copied,"  he  said.  "  If  they  have  already  been 
traced,  still  it  will  be  a  proper  step.  They  may  even 
have  neglected  to  trace  them — these  English.  I  must 
see  Stryj  at  once.  You  will  telephone  him.  Not  now," 
as  Von  Salzinger  rose  with  alacrity  to  obey.  "  There  is 
another  matter  to  be  dealt  with  first.  Hertzwohl  has  got 
away.  He  must  be  silenced.  He  must  be  punished.  If 
he  is  in  England — of  which  I  have  no  doubt,  he  would  be 
even  less  safe  elsewhere — he  is  to  be  run  to  earth,  and 
his  power  for  further  mischief  must  be — cut  off.  You 
understand." 

Von  Salzinger's  eyes  were  full  of  meaning  as  he 
nodded,  but  there  was  no  fraction  of  change  in  the 
other's.  Von  Berger  drew  a  note-book  from  his  pocket, 
and  .turned  some  odds  and  ends  of  papers  over.  Finally 
he  selected  one. 

He  held  it  out,  and  his  level  eyes  forced  Von  Salz- 
inger's till  the  latter  felt  that  the  remotest  secrets  could 
be  penetrated  by  their  cold  intensity. 

"  You  know  that  place  ?  "  he  enquired. 

Von  Salzinger  read  — 

"  REDWITHY  FARM,  WEDNESFORD,  BUCKS." 

He  drew  a  deep  breath.  At  the  sound  of  it  Von 
Berger's  eyelids  flickered. 


THE  CROUCH  OF  THE  TIGER  231 

"  Yes."  Von  Salzinger's  eyes  were  slowly  raised  to 
the  other's. 

"  Quite  so.  You  visited  there  the  other  day.  For 
what  purpose?  " 

"  Information."  There  was  a  flush  in  the  man's  fleshy 
cheeks.  He  loathed  and  feared  those  searching  eyes. 

"  Was  your  visit  productive  ?  " 

Von  Salzinger  shrugged. 

"  No." 

"  We  will  visit  there  together  and  must  make  our  visit 
productive.  Vassilitz  will  expect  us  there  to-night.  If 
Hertzwohl  is  in  England  we  must  find  him  through  the 
Princess  Valita.  Now  send  for  Stryj." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

FROM   BENEATH   THE  WATERS 

THE  appeal  in  Vita's  voice,  in  her  yearning,  distressed 
eyes,  when  she  demanded  her  lover's  reassurance  of  her 
father's  escape,  was  not  without  a  powerful  effect  on  the 
romantic  chivalry  which  was  so  large  a  part  of  Ruxton's 
nature.  It  set  every  nerve  in  his  body  tingling  to  serve 
her.  Then,  too,  the  debt  he  owed  to  the  Prince  himself, 
in  the  name  of  his  country,  urged  him. 

That  night  he  had  bought  later  editions  of  the  paper, 
seeking  further  news  which  might  throw  light  upon  the 
matter,  and  possibly  yield  an  explanation  of  the  Baltic 
incident  which  might  relieve  them  of  all  anxiety.  But 
none  was  forthcoming.  The  reports  passed  from  the 
"  stop  press  "  to  the  news  columns  without  added  detail. 
Editorial  speculation  was  added,  but  this  afforded  no  clue 
to  the  unravelling  of  the  mystery. 

Then,  at  last,  Ruxton  took  a  decision.  Its  purpose  was 
vague,  but  the  impulse  was  irresistible.  His  whole 
thoughts  focussed  themselves  upon  Dorby  and  the  work 
going  on  there.  He  had  offered  this  foreigner  the  shelter 
of  his  home.  He  had  impressed  it  upon  him.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  such  being  the  case,  should  his  anticipation 
prove  correct,  his  place,  at  the  moment,  was  unquestion- 
ably Dorby. 

He  communicated  his  feelings  on  the  matter  to  Vita, 


FROM  BENEATH  THE  WATERS  233 

who  saw  in  his  ideas  the  inspiration  which  he  would  never 
have  admitted. 

"  If  it  should  be  that  he  has  escaped  those  dreadful 
guns,"  she  said,  her  hands  clasped  in  an  effort  to  steady 
herself,  "  Dorby  is  the  place  he  will  make  for — the  Old 
Mill  Cove.  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear,  can  you  not  see  what 
would  happen  if  he  arrived  with  no  one  there  to  caution 
him  ?  He  would  make  for  Redwithy.  He  would  come 
straight  to  me.  And  Von  Salzinger  would  be  ready  for 
him.  You  will  go  ?  You  will  help  him  for  my  sake  ? 
Ah,  thank  you,"  as  the  man  nodded  his  silent  reassurance. 
"  Meanwhile  I  will  return  home  at  once  that  I  may  be 
ready  for  every  eventuality — and  Von  Salzinger.  I  will 
let  you  know  any  development." 

So  it  came  about  that  Ruxton  found  himself  at  Dorby 
Towers  once  more,  in  deep  consultation  with  his  father, 
who,  with  steady  twinkling  eyes,  listened  and  advised 
with  all  the  shrewd,  calm  wisdom  of  his  clear  commercial 
brain. 

Nearly  the  whole  of  the  next  day  was  spent  by  Ruxton 
upon  the  cliffs,  where,  with  powerful  glasses,  he  searched 
the  calm  surface  of  the  treacherous  grey  waters  of  the 
North  Sea.  His  search  remained  unrewarded,  but  he  was 
indefatigable.  His  watch  was  kept  up  with  the  aid  of  a 
confidential  man  of  his  father's  to  relieve  him,  and  when 
evening  came  he  decided  that  a  night  watch  must  follow 
the  day.  He  had  carefully  calculated  the  time  from  the 
date  and  hour  of  the  Baltic  firing,  and,  in  the  light  of  the 
experience  of  his  own  journey  to  Borga,  he  calculated  that 
if  the  Prince  had  actually  escaped,  and  was  making  for 
Dorby,  he  would  reach  the  coast  some  time  during  the 
next  twelve  hours. 


234  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

From  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  until  darkness  set 
in  he  had  rested,  leaving  his  assistant  on  guard.  Then  he 
set  out  alone  to  keep  his  night  vigil. 

His  way  took  him  across  the  wild  moorland  in  the 
direction  of  the  black  remains  of  the  old  mill,  and,  in  set- 
ting out,  he  remembered  that  night  which  now  seemed  so 
far  back  in  his  memory,  when,  out  of  the  darkness,  he  had 
heard  those  tones  he  had  now  come  to  love  so  well. 
This  time,  however,  his  dinner  coat  and  thin  shoes  had 
been  abandoned  in  favor  of  a  heavy  tweed  ulster  and 
thick  shooting  boots.  For  the  autumn  night  was  bitter 
with  a  light  breeze  from  the  northeast,  and  a  great  silvery 
moon,  and  the  cold  diamonds  of  a  starlit  sky,  suggested 
that  the  speeding  hours  were  likely  to  bring  with  them 
many  degrees  of  frost  before  he  could  return  to  the  warmth 
of  his  bed. 

His  direction  gave  him  no  trouble.  Every  foot  of  the 
moorland  cliff  was  familiar  to  him  with  the  instinct  bred 
through  childish  years  of  association.  Then  there  was  the 
great,  heavy  moon  yielding  a  light  by  which  it  would  al- 
most have  been  possible  to  read. 

So  he  strode  on  towards  his  goal,  the  blackened 
skeleton,  which  marked  the  old  dishonest  times  of  battles 
fought  out  against  authority.  With  the  detachment  of 
youth  his  thoughts  had  been  left  free  to  wander  from  the 
purpose  of  his  journey.  A  deep  concentration  had  com- 
pleted every  detail  of  the  work  that  lay  before  him.  And 
so  the  resiliency  of  his  brain  had  caused  a  rebound  to 
those  wonderful  thoughts  which  claimed  his  every  human 
sensation. 

He  was  thinking  of  Vita.  His  mental  faculties  had 
visualized  once  more  the  perfections  which  were  hers, 


FROM  BENEATH  THE  WATERS  235 

and  those  with  which  this  love  of  his  endowed  her. 
His  big  heart  was  stirred  to  its  very  depths  with  the 
memory  of  her  final,  wistful  appeal.  He  felt  that  if 
human  effort  could  serve  her,  that  effort,  the  whole  of  it 
that  was  in  him,  was  at  her  service.  He  felt  that  all  quite 
suddenly  a  great  new  power  had  been  vouchsafed  him, 
a  power  to  do,  to  act,  and  to  think — all  for  the  woman 
who  had  inspired  in  him  this  wonderful,  wonderful  feeling 
of  love. 

Nothing,  no  task,  no  labor,  however  great,  was  too 
arduous  for  him  to  accomplish.  More,  it  was  a  happiness, 
such  as  never  in  his  life  he  had  known,  to  be  privileged 
with  the  task  of  contributing  to  her  happiness. 

In  the  mood  of  the  moment  he  had  no  desire  to  look 
ahead.  The  concerns  of  the  future  belonged  to  the  fu- 
ture. For  him,  in  this  matter,  the  present  was  all-suffi- 
cient Next  to  him  Vita  loved  her  father.  She  had  fear- 
lessly undertaken  work  which  might  well  have  daunted 
any  woman,  to  help  him  in  his  motives  of  humanity. 
Was  there  any  more  sublime  motive  for  a  woman's 
action?  He  thought  not.  And  a  wave  of  delighted 
appreciation  swept  over  him.  In  the  ghostly  silvery  light 
of  that  autumn  night  he  thanked  God  that  the  love  of 
such  a  woman  had  been  vouchsafed  him. 

He  reached  the  decayed  surroundings  of  the  old  mill 
all  too  soon.  But,  with  a  readiness  which  found  him 
stoically  regretless,  he  probed  once  more  the  mysteries 
of  the  old  mill.  It  was  precisely  as  he  had  left  it  on  his 
return  from  Borga,  which  seemed  so  long  ago.  He  could 
detect  no  sign  that  any  one  had  been  near  the  place.  He 
was  glad.  He  felt  its  secret  was  still  safe,  and  was  yet  a 
power  to  serve  the  woman  he  loved. 


236  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  journey  through  the  bowels  of  the  earth  was  one 
of  simple  accomplishment  now.  He  even  required  no 
lantern.  All  that  was  necessary  was  the  lighting  of  an 
occasional  match  to  verify  his  positions. 

At  the  cavern  mouth  he  found  that  it  was  high  tide. 
The  rock-girt  pit  was  darkly  sombre,  but  the  radiance  of 
the  moon  was  sufficient  to  outline  the  restless,  lapping 
water's  edge,  which  was  all  he  needed.  With  some  care 
he  scrambled  over  the  slippery  boulders  and  finally  made 
his  way  to  a  great  projection  which  overhung  the  water 
some  fifteen  feet  below,  and  took  up  his  position  upon  its 
rugged,  unyielding  extremity.  Here  he  sat  in  full  view 
of  the  mouth  of  the  great  inlet,  through  which  the  waters 
were  still  churning.  Beyond  it,  miles  out  to  sea,  he  could 
observe  every  light  or  object  silhouetted  against  the  sky- 
line. But  he  knew  that  if  Prince  von  Hertzwohl  were 
making  for  the  Old  Mill  Cove  he  would  not  approach  it 
till  the  tide  was  at  a  low  ebb.  That  would  not  occur  for 
some  hours. 

The  tide  had  long  since  fallen.  It  had  been  ebbing  for 
nearly  three  hours  and  a  half.  So  still  was  the  air,  so 
oppressive  the  sense  of  silent  crowding  by  the  towering 
cliffs  about  him,  that  Ruxton's  ears  had  become  attuned  to 
every  change  in  the  sound  of  the  lapping  waters  below 
him.  He  had  recognized  the  period  of  slack  water.  Then 
he  had  caught  and  read  the  change  of  sound  with  the  first 
signs  of  the  ebb.  Then  again  he  had  recognized  its  in- 
creasing speed.  And  all  the  time  eyes  and  ears  were 
straining  for  sight  or  sound  from  beyond  the  mouth  of  the 
cove.  He  had  seen  lights  pass :  slow,  distinct,  as  some 
trader  or  trawler  passed  upon  its  chilly  way.  But  these 


FROM  BENEATH  THE  WATERS  237 

had  been  far  beyond  the  range  at  which  he  expected  the 
signs  of  the  submersible. 

It  was  warmer  down  in  the  cove  than  upon  the  moor- 
land, but  the  chill  of  the  night  air  was  penetrating,  and 
he  huddled  his  neck  down  in  the  high  upturned  collar 
of  his  coat  and  drew  its  skirts  closer  about  his  knees. 
It  was  a  dreary  vigil,  but  his  determination  never 
wavered. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  produced  a  cigar,  prepared  to 
obtain  the  trifling  comfort  which  tobacco  might  afford 
him,  but,  in  the  act  of  striking  a  match  he  abruptly  aban- 
doned the  attempt.  He  flung  it  away  and  raised  his 
night  glasses.  Some  sound  had  caught  his  straining 
ears.  It  came  from  well  beyond  the  towering  gateway. 
It  seemed  to  him  like  the  vague  and  indistinct  throb  of 
powerful  engines.  After  a  moment's  search  the  glasses 
revealed  some  dark  bulk  on  the  bosom  of  the  sea.  In  a 
moment  he  was  on  his  feet  searching,  searching. 

Minutes  passed.  To  him  it  seemed  the  bulk  remained 
stationary,  but  its  very  indefmiteness  left  him  doubting. 
At  last  he  lowered  his  glasses  and  gave  himself  up  to 
listening.  Then  he  prepared  to  light  his  cigar  again. 

He  could  hear  no  sound  of  engines  now.  He A 

light  had  flashed  out !  Instantly  a  responsive  thrill  passed 
down  through  his  sensitive  nerves. 

Now  the  rapidly  passing  moments  each  brought  their 
developments.  He  could  hear  the  voices  of  men  plainly 
in  the  dead  silence  of  the  night.  They  must  be  near, 
dangerously  near  to  the  treacherous  opening.  He  could 
see  other  lights,  moving  lights,  like  lanterns  being  borne 
along  a  deck  by  hand.  Then  he  heard  the  clanking  of 
cable  chains.  Finally  a  larger  light,  something  in  the 


238  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

nature  of  a  small  searchlight,  detached  itself  from  the 
others,  and  came  directly  towards  the  opening. 

He  turned  away  and  lit  his  cigar.  Then  he  scrambled 
down  to  the  beach. 

Ruxton  had  remained  in  obscurity  watching  the  light 
as  it  passed  through  the  opening.  It  came  on  swiftly 
against  the  racing  tide.  There  was  no  hesitation  or  in- 
decision. The  light  steered  straight  for  the  spit  of  rock 
forming  a  sort  of  natural  quay,  upon  which  he  was  stand- 
ing under  cover  of  a  projecting  boulder.  There  was  no 
longer  any  doubt  in  his  mind.  He  remembered  that  other 
time  when  he  had  embarked  at  the  same  spot. 

The  launch  slowed  down  and  crept  towards  the  rocky 
tongue.  The  landing  was  brilliantly  lit  up  by  the  search- 
ing headlight.  Slower,  slower,  it  finally  glided  into  the 
landing-place  and  was  held  fast  by  two  heavy  figures  now 
clearly  outlined. 

A  third  figure  rose  up  amidships— a  tall,  familiar  figure, 
clad  in  a  long  enveloping  cloak.  He  spoke  once.  Then 
he  stepped  actively  on  to  the  landing.  Ruxton  emerged 
from  the  shadow. 

"  Welcome,  Prince.     It  is  I,  Ruxton  Farlow." 

He  had  stepped  forward  with  hand  outheld. 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  voice  the  men  in  the  boat  had 
become  still.  The  Prince  had  swung  round,  and  his  right 
hand  had  been  plunged  deeply  into  the  pocket  of  his 
great  cloak.  But  a  moment  later  it  was  withdrawn,  and 
a  deep-throated  laugh  expressed  his  relief. 

"Ah,  my  friend,"  he  cried.  "I  thought" — then  he 
grasped  the  outstretched  hand  in  warm  cordiality, — "  then 
I  heard  your  name,  and  knew  my  alarms  were  groundless. 
You  have  come  here  to — meet  me?  " 


FROM  BENEATH  THE  WATERS  239 

"Yes.     We  guessed." 

"  Ah.     Forgive  me.     I  must  give  some  orders." 

He  was  about  to  turn  away  to  the  men  in  the  boats, 
but  Ruxton  detained  him. 

"  Before  you  give  orders,  I  would  suggest  you  send 
your  vessel  round  to  Dorby.  Our  dock-master  is  on  the 
lookout  for  you.  He  is  lying  off  the  mouth  of  the  river 
to  pilot  you  in  to  a — safe — mooring.  When  you  hail 
him,  pass  him  one  word  :  '  Towers.'  My  father  is  await- 
ing you  at  home.  We  have  thought  out  a  plan  which 
may  meet  with  your  approval." 

The  tall  figure  moved  a  step  nearer.  Again  his  tena- 
cious hand  was  thrust  out. 

"  It  is  always  the  same — in  Britain.     I  thank  you." 

He  turned  and  gave  orders  in  compliance  with  Rux- 
ton's  instructions.  Then  the  two  men  stood  side  by  side 
while  they  watched  the  launch  slide  back  with  the  tide. 
Then,  as  it  swung  about,  head  on  for  the  opening, 
they  moved  away  up  towards  the  cavern  entrance  in  the 
cliff. 

Throughout  the  passage  of  the  cave,  and  the  long  climb 
up  the  rough-hewn  staircase  to  the  mill  above,  no  un- 
necessary word  was  spoken.  An  occasional  warning  of 
trifling  pitfalls  ahead  from  Ruxton,  on  the  lead,  was  the 
only  sound  beyond  the  clatter  of  feet  upon  the  rough 
stone  tread  of  the  journey. 

There  was  much  to  be  said  between  them,  but  each 
felt  that  the  dank  atmosphere  of  this  cavern  was  scarcely 
the  place  in  which  to  pause  for  confidences.  This  was  a 
meeting  between  these  two  full  of  profound  significance, 
even  of  threat,  for  both  knew  that  a  challenge  had  been 


240  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

thrown  out  at  a  power  for  vengeance,  the  extent  of  which 
neither  could  as  yet  accurately  estimate. 

The  silence  between  them  was  maintained  until  the 
outline  of  the  old  mill  had  fallen  away  well  behind 
them,  and  the  intricacies  of  the  footpaths  amongst  the 
black  gorse  patches  permitted  of  their  walking  abreast. 
Then  it  was  Ruxton  who  opened  the  subject  between 
them. 

"  I  bought  a  newspaper  almost  by  chance.  It  con- 
tained news  of  some  action  by  the  German  fleet — in  the 
Baltic.  It  was  vague.  But  somehow  it  made  me  un- 
easy. Then  Vita  seemed  to  read  it  aright." 

"Vita?" 

"  Ah,  forgive  me,"  Ruxton  smiled.  "  The  Princess  in- 
terpreted it.  We  became  convinced  that  it  was  some- 
thing to  warrant  alarm  for — your  safety." 

The  tall,  lean  figure  pressed  nearer  to  its  English 
friend.  Ruxton  felt  the  clasp  of  a  hand  upon  his  upper 
arm. 

"  And  so  you  came — to  the  cove  ?  " 

There  was  a  deep  note  of  appreciation  in  the  man's 
voice. 

"  It  was  a  friendly  act,"  he  added. 

Ruxton  shrugged. 

"  I  promised  you  a  welcome  in  England.  It  is  noth- 
ing." 

"  No.     It  is  nothing — to  some  people." 

Ruxton  dismissed  the  subject. 

"  They  have  discovered.  Von  Salzinger  is  in  Eng- 
land." 

"  Yes,  Vita  has  told  me.  But  I  knew  it  without  the 
telling."  Then  the  Prince  laughed,  and  there  was  iron- 


FROM  BENEATH  THE  WATERS  241 

ical  inflection  in  his  mirth.  "  Oh,  yes.  It  was  easy  to 
watch — these  things.  I  watched  every  move  through 
the  eyes  of  my  few  faithful  friends.  I  saw  how  they 
kept  me  under  surveillance,  after — after  they  sent  Von 
Salzinger  to  England.  Then,  when  I  began  to  feel  that 
their  interest  in  me  was  becoming  threatening,  when  I 
received  interrogations  that  were  difficult  to  answer — 
easily — interrogations  about  the  U-rays,  then  I  said  to 
myself  that  I  must  put  to  the  test  all  those  little  plans  I 
had  prepared.  I  abandoned  my  works  by  sea." 

"  Then " 

"  Oh,  it  was  not  all  so  simple.  The  story  of  it  I  will 
tell  you  some  day.  One  thing  I  had  not  calculated  upon 
was  that  my  place  was  watched  from  the  sea  by  our 
naval  ships.  They  are  shrewd,  these  people,  but  they 
are  also  blundering.  These  naval  men  !  "  His  clasp  on 
Ruxton's  arm  tightened.  A  certain  scorn  crept  into  the 
vibrating  tones.  "  You  know  them  ?  Your  people 
know  them.  They  laugh  at  them — your  people,  I  mean 
— as  I  laughed.  The  German  Navy  forgets.  They  for- 
get that  I  am  the  master  of  the  submarine.  They  think 
they  know  it  all — all  that  I  have  in  here."  He  touched 
the  high  forehead  under  his  soft  felt  hat  with  a  lean  fore- 
finger. "  But  they  do  not.  They  see  my  boat  come  out. 
They  challenge  me — as  they  challenge  me  at  Borga.  It 
is  the  same  again.  I  laugh  and  I  keep  on  my  course.  I 
do  not  heave-to.  Then  they  open  their  guns  at  me  to 
sink  me,  but  I  only  submerge.  They  follow  on  my  line. 
I  come  up.  They  fire  again,  and  so  it  goes  on.  They 
make  a  great  commotion  and  waste  many  shells.  Then 
comes  night,  and — I  lose  them."  He  shrugged.  Then 
after  a  pause  he  went  on.  "  Now  I  come  to  England 


242 

and  I  join  my  daughter  in  her  home.  Later  on  maybe 
I  shall  forget  these  people  that  have  owned  my  body  and 
brain,  and  used  them  for  so  long  to  outrage  humanity. 
I  never  go  back.  Never,  never  ! " 

"  No." 

Ruxton  shrank  from  the  news  he  must  convey.  The 
doubt  in  his  monosyllable,  however,  did  not  pass  the 
other  by.  The  Pole's  big  eyes  turned  full  upon  his 
companion's  face,  and  enquiry  rang  in  his  echo  of  the 
monosyllable. 

"No?" 

"  You  cannot  go  to  your  daughter's  place.  Von  Salz- 
inger  has  discovered  it.  It  will  be  watched." 

"Ah !  " 

"  It  is  an  added  reason  for  my  meeting  you." 

"  It  is  an  added  complication.     So,  so." 

"  But  not  beyond — straightening  out." 

"  No  ?  " 

"  My  father  is  awaiting  you.     There  is  Dorby." 

They  walked  on  in  silence.  The  old  man  moved  with 
surprising  vigor.  He  was  thinking  rapidly.  The  new 
situation  involved  a  readjustment  of  plans.  He  was 
seeking  solution  with  a  fertility  of  imagination  which 
might  have  astonished  the  Englishman  had  he  known. 

Ruxton  went  on. 

"  Our  works  are  under  protection  from  our  naval  au- 
thority. They  should  be  safe.  My  father  thinks  the 
shelter  of  our  home  should  serve  for  the  present." 

Von  Hertzwohl  seemed  to  pass  the  offer  by,  dwelling 
only  upon  the  safety  of  the  works. 

"  That  is  good,  the  works  protected,"  he  said  abruptly, 
his  luminous  eyes  shining.  "  You  are  clever.  You  take 


FROM  BENEATH  THE  WATERS  243 

no  chance.  And  the  work  ?  It  goes  on  ?  Good  !  Ah  1 
I  must  see  it  all."  He  rubbed  his  hands.  "  There  is  no 
hitch?  Nothing?  The  vessels  grow — grow  while  you 
look.  Ah,  yes,  I  know  you  British.  There  will  be  no 
more  submarine  danger ;  no  more  massacre  of  women 
and  children  at  sea.  It  gives  me  the  greatest  joy," 

The  old  man's  enthusiasm  was  beyond  all  thought  of 
self.  It  was  so  simple,  so  intense.  It  was  the  enthusi- 
asm of  a  child  for  his  new  toy,  and  Ruxton  marvelled  at 
the  odd  mixture  which  went  to  make  up  his  strange  char- 
acter. 

"The  completion  of  the  work  is  as  inevitable  as  that 
your  Government  means  to — hunt  you  down." 

Ruxton  thought  to  impress  the  Pole  with  the  precari- 
ousness  of  his  position.  But  the  man  brushed  it  aside. 

"  Ach ! "  he  cried,  with  a  gesture  of  recklessness. 
"  Yes,  they  hunt  me  down.  That  is  it.  That  is  why  I 
do  not  burden  your  father  with  my  safeguard.  It  is 
good  to  think  of.  This  generous  man — your  father.  It 
is  good  that  his  son  comes  to — help  me.  I  feel  it  all 
here."  He  pressed  one  hand  over  his  heart.  "  But  no. 
I  know  these  people.  I  do  not  fear  them.  They  hunt 
me  down.  They  kill  me.  It  is  not  so  much.  It  is  so 
small  a  thing  I  do  not  think  of  it.  No.  But  they  do  not 
hunt  me  down,"  he  went  on,  with  a  smile  of  quiet  con- 
fidence. "  I  will  go  with  you  to  Dorby.  I  will  talk  with 
your  great  father — and  then — I  go.  It  will  be  good  to 
befool  them — and  I  will  befool  them." 

He  laughed  a  fearless,  heart-whole  laugh  which  left  the 
younger  man  marvelling. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  TIGER  SPRINGS 

THE  drawing-room  at  Redwithy  Farm  was  bathed  in 
the  shadows  of  early  autumn  evening.  A  fire  of  blazing 
logs  spluttered  and  crackled  in  the  great  open  fireplace. 
Its  ruddy  light  shed  an  atmosphere  of  mellow  comfort 
and  coziness  over  the  entire  aspect  of  the  room.  Under 
ordinary  circumstances  Vita  would  have  revelled  in  the 
delight  of  these  moments  of  a  great  new  happiness  in  her 
beautiful  home. 

She  was  ensconced  in  an  armchair  beside  the  fire 
which  had  doubtless,  in  years  gone  by,  supported  the 
slumbering  form  of  some  bewigged  country  squire.  Its 
design  was  perfect  for  such  a  purpose.  A  small  tea-table 
stood  at  her  elbow.  The  muffins  were  cold  upon  it,  but 
she  had  been  glad  of  the  mildly  stimulating  effects  of  the 
tea. 

Now  she  was  sitting  forward  in  her  chair  gazing  deep 
down  into  the  heart  of  the  fire.  A  teeming  thought  was 
speeding  through  a  brain  which,  of  late,  seemed  always 
to  be  working  at  high  pressure.  The  odd  pucker  of 
thought  between  her  brows  added  charm  and  character 
to  her  beautiful  face.  Her  eyes,  too,  had  lost  something 
of  their  profound  serenity.  They  were  alight  and  shining 
with  a  certain  nervous  concentration,  while  her  delicate 
lips  were  unusually  firmly  compressed. 

She  had  only  returned  from  London  an  hour  earlier, 


THE  TIGER  SPRINGS  245 

and  now,  far  from  the  distractions  of  the  momentous 
hours  she  had  spent  with  the  man  whose  love  had  been 
powerful  enough  to  sweep  aside  every  other  consider- 
ation from  her  mind,  she  was  striving  to  quell  all  emo- 
tion, and  disentangle  the  skeins  in  which  she  felt  hope- 
lessly caught  up. 

Paramount,  her  great  love  for  Ruxton  stood  out  and 
tripped  her  at  every  effort  to  concentrate  upon  those 
matters  which  related  to  the  plans  upon  which  they  were 
all  at  work.  Her  alarm  for  her  father  was  real  and  al- 
most overwhelming.  But  her  joy  in  her  new-found  love 
robbed  it  of  half  its  significance.  In  the  happiness  of  the 
moment  it  was  impossible  to  believe  or  accept,  even,  the 
suggestion  that  disaster  had  overtaken,  or  could  overtake 
him. 

In  the  first  rush  of  her  dread  Ruxton's  confidence 
had  reassured  her.  Her  father  must  be  safe.  Her  lover's 
argument  had  been  so  clear  and  convincing.  Then  he 
had  promised  to  meet  him  on  his  arrival  in  England. 
Yes,  her  father  was  bound  to  make  for  Dorby.  That  was 
their  secret  landing-place.  Ruxton  would  be  there.  He 
would  not  fail.  He  would  warn  him  of  Von  Salzinger's 
discovery  of  her  house.  He  would  arrange  for  his  safety. 
To  all  these  things  he  had  given  his  word,  and  his  word 
was  all-sufficient  for  her.  As  for  his  ability  to  put  his 
promise  into  effect  there  could  be  no  question.  The 
proud  thought  in  her  was  supreme. 

She  dwelt  upon  the  glamored  picture  of  her  lover 
which  was  always  in  her  mind,  and  it  comforted  her  and 
reassured  her  as  she  had  never  found  comfort  or  reassur- 
ance before.  No  one  who  knew  him  could  question,  she 
felt.  Her  vivid  mental  vision  dwelt  upon  the  sculptured 


246  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

beauties  of  his  magnificent  face  and  head.  The  calmly 
assured  manner;  the  great  physical  strength,  which  re- 
minded her  of  the  men  in  the  wonderful  history  of  her 
own  country, — these  things  overbore  her  woman's  timid- 
ities, and  reacted  upon  her  in  a  manner  which  drove  all 
doubts  headlong. 

He  would  write  her.  How?  Through  the  post,  or 
would  he  send  a  messenger  with  the  news  of  her  father's 
safety  ?  It  was  a  useless  speculation.  All  she  knew  was 
that  the  news  would  come.  He  had  promised  it. 

Vassilitz  entered  the  room.  Vita  knew  it  because  the 
door  had  opened,  and  the  rattle  of  the  handle  had  dis- 
turbed her.  Otherwise  the  man's  movements  were 
decorously  silent.  He  crossed  to  the  windows  and  drew 
the  curtains.  He  glided  across  the  room,  and  prepared 
to  remove  the  tea-things. 

Would  madame  have  the  lights?  No,  madame  pre- 
ferred the  firelight.  The  brighter  lights  would  have  dis- 
turbed her  dreaming.  The  man  bore  the  tea-table  away, 
his  dark  eyes  and  sallow  features  perfect  in  their  immo- 
bility. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  him,  memory  brought  Vita 
a  fleeting  unease.  She  remembered  Ruxton's  warning 
about  Vassilitz.  He  had  suggested  his  possible  connec- 
tion with  the  Secret  Service.  It  seemed  impossible.  And 
yet  Ruxton  had  been  definite.  How  long  had  she  known 
him  ?  She  cast  back  in  her  mind.  Why,  as  long  as  she 
could  remember.  She  remembered  him  as  a  village  lout, 
who  sometimes  worked  for  her  father  in  his  garden. 
Then  he  had  been  taken  away  to  the  army,  as  they  were 
all  taken  away  by  the  cruel  conscript  laws.  Yes,  of 
course,  he  had  been  away  in  the  army,  and — they  had 


THE  TIGER  SPRINGS  247 

lost  sight  of  him  all  that  time — the  time  he  was  in  the 
army. 

Then  she  dismissed  the  matter.  Ruxton  must  be 
right.  She  was  sure  he  would  not  say  such  a  thing  with- 
out some  reason.  She  would  send  Vassilitz  back  to  his 
home.  There  must  be  no  unnecessary  risk  of  her  father's 
safety. 

Having  settled  the  matter,  the  fiery  caverns  in  the  grate 
absorbed  her  attention  once  more,  and  every  beat  of  her 
heart  helped  to  bridge  the  distance  which  separated  her 
from  the  lover  who  had  so  suddenly  thrust  himself  into 
her  life. 

How  long  she  sat  crouching  over  the  crackling  fire, 
dreaming  those  dreams  of  life,  which  afterwards  become 
the  most  sacred  treasures  of  a  woman's  memory,  Vita 
never  knew.  Later,  when  she  reviewed  those  moments, 
conviction  remained  that  never  for  one  moment  had  her 
eyes  closed  in  response  to  the  seductive  warmth  of  the 
fire.  Yet  she  knew  that  in  some  strange  manner  oblivion 
must  have  stolen  upon  her.  Without  a  shadow  of  warn- 
ing she  found  herself  sitting  bolt  upright,  every  drop  of 
blood  seeming  to  have  receded  from  her  veins,  leaving 
her  shivering  in  a  frigid  panic.  The  cold,  hard  tones  of  a 
man's  voice  were  addressing  her. 

"  The  Princess  will  forgive  the  unceremonious  nature  of 
this  visit,"  it  said.  "  It  is  imperative,  for — it  is  made 
under  the  direct  authority  of  those  who  claim  all  subjects 
of  the  Fatherland." 

The  words  were  in  German.  They  were  without  a 
shadow  of  inflection,  and  thereby  gained  in  the  consum- 
mate tyranny  of  their  meaning. 

Vita  was  on  her  feet.     Nor  had  the  wild  panic  which 


248  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

swept  through  her  every  nerve  centre  power  to  rob  her  of 
the  regal  poise  natural  to  her.  She  battled  fiercely  for 
calmness,  but  only  achieved  it  superficially. 

In  the  dark  of  the  room  she  could  see  nothing  of  the 
intruder  distinctly.  A  shadowy  outline  in  the  direction  of 
the  closed  door  was  all  she  could  make  out.  Then,  with 
a  swift  movement,  one  arm  was  thrust  out  towards  the 
wall  beside  the  fireplace.  Her  fingers  encountered  a 
group  of  electric  switches.  In  a  moment  the  room  was 
flooded  with  a  shaded,  mellow  light. 

"  Frederick  von  Berger  !     You  !  " 

It  was  the  only  exclamation  that  escaped  her  parched 
lips.  But  it  expressed  all  the  terror  which  would  no 
longer  be  denied. 

She  had  recognized  the  intruder.  And  behind  him  she 
saw  the  square  figure  of  Von  Salzinger.  But  the  latter 
meant  nothing  compared  with  the  overwhelming  person- 
ality of  the  man  whom  she,  with  thousands  of  others,  had 
always  regarded  as  the  Kaiser's  evil  genius.  Probably 
only  once  or  twice  in  all  her  years  she  had  seen  this  man 
in  the  flesh.  But  his  pictures,  they  were  known  to  every- 
body in  the  Fatherland,  just  as  was  the  sinister  reputation 
which  dogged  his  name. 

Oh,  yes,  she  knew  him — and  he  was  here,  here  in  Eng- 
land, and  had  stolen  in  upon  the  privacy  and  obscurity  of 
her  home.  What  was  his  purpose  ?  What?  Something 
of  it,  at  least,  was  plain  to  her  from  the  moment  of  her 
recognition.  It  was  the  cruel  hand  of  the  Teutonic  ma- 
chinery reaching  out  towards  her  and — hers.  Hers  ! 
The  thought  seared  itself  upon  her  brain.  For  herself 
she  had  no  thought,  but  for  her  father  she  had  become 
the  veriest  coward. 


THE  TIGER  SPRINGS  249 

The  intruder  displayed  no  interest  or  feeling  at  the 
manner  oi  Vita's  greeting.  The  lines  of  his  face  remained 
as  stonily  graven  as  chiselled  marble.  So  cold  was  his 
regard  that  it  even  seemed  incapable  of  interpreting  her 
matchless  beauty. 

"  I  am  honored  that  the  Princess  recognizes  me,"  he  said, 
with  a  coldness  that  made  his  words  an  offence.  "  It  will 
save  explanation." 

Then  he  came  towards  her  and  stood  before  the  fire 
confronting  her.  His  height  matched  hers,  which  left 
him  only  of  medium  height  for  a  man. 

"  Your  father  has  sold  the  secrets  of  Borga  to — Eng- 
land. Now  he  has  made  good  his  escape  to — England." 
Then  without  a  sign,  or  gesture,  or  shadow  of  signifi- 
cance, he  added  :  "  So  you  see  it  was  necessary  to  visit 
you  here." 

It  was  well-nigh  an  impossibility  ever  to  fathom  the 
thought  which  lay  behind  this  man's  spoken  word. 
There  was  a  directness  and  simplicity  about  him  which 
was  utterly  confounding.  Then  there  was  that  dreadful 
frigidity  of  eye  and  attitude. 

Vita  realized  the  impossibility  at  once.  She  made  no 
attempt  to  guess  at  that  which  was  in  his  mind.  She 
contented  herself  with  his  admission  of  her  father's  es- 
cape. Without  it  terror  alone  would  have  remained. 
Instead,  now,  a  wonderful  calmness  settled  upon  her. 
Maybe  there  was  a  touch  of  desperation  in  her  calm. 
But  there  was  still  the  assurance  of  her  father's  security, 
at  least  temporarily.  She  must  watch.  She  must  strive. 
If  there  were  the  smallest  possibility  she  must  baffle  the 
purpose  which  had  brought  Frederick  von  Berger  to  her 
home.  She  waited. 


2$o  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  It  is  not  presumed,  of  course,  that  you  are  aware  of 
these  matters — yet.  But  it  is  well  known  to  our  agents 
that  you  are  in  touch  with  the  Prince.  Therefore  it  is 
probable  on  his  arrival  in  England  he  will  communicate 
with  you.  It  is  not  our  intention  to  permit  you  to  thus 
incriminate  yourself.  All  possibility  of  the  Prince's  com- 
municating with  you  must  be  avoided,  or  you,  a  woman, 
will  fall  under  the  penalty  of  his  crimes.  You  will  pre- 
pare yourself  at  once  to  make  a  journey  by  road.  You 
will  leave  this  house  at  once,  and  remain  away  from  it 
until  the  whole  unpleasant  affair  has  been  settled  to  the 
satisfaction  of  Berlin.  These  are  instructions  direct  to 
you  from  the  authority  of  the  land  which  still  claims  you 
subject." 

Resentment  was  the  dominant  emotion  the  man's  pro- 
nouncement stirred  in  Vita.  His  authority  was  unques- 
tioned in  her  mind,  but  the  manner  of  him  was  infuriating 
to  her  hot  Polish  blood.  The  sparkle  of  her  beautiful 
eyes  could  not  be  concealed.  She  bit  her  lips  to  keep 
back  the  hot  words  which  leapt  in  retort,  and,  all  the 
while  he  was  speaking,  she  reminded  herself  of  the 
necessity  for  calm.  The  moment  his  last  word  died  out 
her  reply  came. 

"  Here,  in  England,  I  am  commanded  by  German 
authority  to  abandon  my  home  and  go  whithersoever 
it  pleases  you  to  conduct  me.  German  authority  in  a 
country  where  German  authority  does  not  obtain.  You 
trespass  on  my  premises,  admitted  I  do  not  know  how. 
You  dictate  this  absurd  order  to  me,  and  expect  me  to 
obey  it.  This  is  not  Prussia." 

"  Precisely,  Princess.  If  this  were  Prussia  there  would 
be  no  discussion."  It  was  the  first  shadow  of  threat  the 


THE  TIGER  SPRINGS  251 

man  had  displayed.  It  was  not  in  his  tone.  It  lay  in 
the  keen,  steely  cold  gleam  of  his  eyes.  "  As  for  the 
authority,"  the  man  shrugged,  "there  is  no  corner  in 
the  world  where  a  German  subject  exists  that  German 
authority  does  not  obtain — for  the  German  subject.  If 
you  have  not  yet  realized  this,  then  I  beg  you  to  do  so 
at  once.  The  method  of  enforcing  that  authority  alone 
differs." 

"  I  understand  that.  In  England  it  is  enforced  by 
the  methods  such  as  any  common  criminal  might 
adopt.  For  instance,  the  burglar  who  steals  into  pri- 
vate houses." 

The  biting  sarcasm  left  Frederick  von  Berger  quite  un- 
disturbed. 

"  The  chief  point  is,  it  is,  and  will  be,  enforced,"  he  ob- 
served coolly.  "  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  prepare  for 
that  journey  ?  " 

"If  I  refuse?" 

Von  Berger  shrugged. 

"  You  will  still  make  it.  The  preparations  will  be  made 
for  you." 

"  By  whom  ?  " 

"  By  your  servants." 

There  was  just  the  faintest  flicker  of  the  eyelids  as  the 
man  assured  her.  There  was  no  smile,  and  yet  there  was 
a  change  from  the  frigidity  which  had  been  so  poignantly 
marked  up  to  that  moment. 

"  My  servants !  Are  they,  too,  bound  to  obey  the 
mandates  of  Berlin  in  violation  of  the  laws  of  free 
England?"  Anger  was  getting  the  better  of  her  re- 
solve. 

"  They,  too,  are  children  of  the  Fatherland." 


252  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Spies ! " 

The  exclamation  broke  from  the  angry  woman  with 
fierce  heat. 

"  Certain  of  them  have  their  orders." 

They  stood  eye  to  eye.  The  anger  of  the  Princess 
flamed  into  the  cold  gaze  of  the  man.  There  was  no 
yielding  in  either  at  the  moment 

"  I  refuse." 

The  words  came  full  of  desperate  determination.  But 
even  as  Vita  pronounced  them  she  felt  their  futility. 
Swiftly  she  cast  about  in  her  mind  for  a  loophole  of 
escape,  but  every  avenue  seemed  to  be  closed.  The 
house  was  isolated.  It  was  attended  by  seven  or  eight 
servants,  and  bitterly  she  remembered  that  they  all  came 
from  a  country  which  yielded  allegiance  to  Teutonic 
tyranny.  Ruxton  had  been  right.  Oh,  how  right ! 
Which  of  these  servants  were  under  the  orders  of  this 
man  ?  She  could  not  be  sure,  excepting  in  the  case  of 
Vassilitz.  Again  panic  grew  and  reached  a  pitch  of 
hysteria  as  she  listened  to  the  man's  easy  level  tones. 

"  You  are  angry,  and  your  common-sense  is  blinded 
by  it,"  he  said  without  emotion.  "  Were  it  not  so  you 
would  see  the  absurdity  of  your  refusal.  I  am  not  with- 
out means  of  enforcing  authority.  Listen.  At  the  front 
door  stands  a  powerful  car.  A  closed  car,  which  is  ficti- 
tiously numbered.  While  we  are  talking  your  maid  is 
packing  for  you.  She  has  orders  to  prepare  for  you 
every  luxury  and  comfort  you  are  accustomed  to  require. 
This  luggage  will  be  placed  in  the  car,  and  she  will 
travel  with  you.  If  you  persist  in  your  refusal  you  will 
be  dealt  with.  If  you  seek  to  call  for  aid  you  will  be 
silenced.  The  servants  in  your  house  will  not  dare  to 


THE  TIGER  SPRINGS  253 

raise  a  finger  in  your  assistance.  You  will  be  conducted 
to  a  place  already  prepared  to  receive  you.  You  will  be 
treated  with  every  courtesy  your  rank  and  sex  entitles 
you  to.  And  when  these  affairs  are  settled  to  suit  Berlin 
you  will  be  released.  Do  you  still  refuse  ?  " 

The  recital  of  the  conditions  prevailing  possessed  a 
conviction  that  suggested  the  inevitability  of  Doom. 
Vita  realized.  Coming  from  another  than  Frederick 
von  Berger  she  might  have  hoped.  But  this  man — she 
shivered.  A  conscienceless  mechanism  as  soulless  as 
cold  steel. 

Her  answer  was  delayed.  Her  eyes,  searching  vainly, 
swept  over  the  room.  Finally  they  encountered  the 
square  face  of  Von  Salzinger.  She  had  forgotten  him. 
Her  gaze  was  caught  and  held,  and,  in  a  moment,  she 
realized  that  he  was  endeavoring  to  convey  some  mean- 
ing to  her.  Its  nature  was  obscure,  but  the  expression 
of  his  usually  hard  face  suggested  sympathy,  and  almost 
kindliness.  Could  it  be  that  in  the  grinding  machinery 
of  Prussian  tyranny  she  possessed  one  friend  ?  She  re- 
membered Von  Salzinger's  protestations.  She  remem- 
bered that  he  had  spoken  of  love  to  her.  Love — what  a 
mockery !  But  might  she  not  hope  for  support  from 
him  ?  No,  he  was  bound  hand  and  foot.  She  dared 
hope  for  no  open  support.  But 

Von  Berger  displayed  the  first  sign  of  impatience.  He 
withdrew  his  watch. 

"  I  cannot  delay,"  he  said.  "  It  is  not  my  desire  to  use 
the  force  at  my  command.  Being  in  England,  and  you 
being  a  woman,  discussion  has  been  permitted.  You  will 
now  choose  definitely,  within  one  minute,  whether  you 
will  submit  to  the  orders  of  Berlin,  or  resist  them.  I  am 


254  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

considering  your  convenience.  It  is  immaterial  to  me 
which  course  you  adopt." 

He  held  the  watch  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  his 
eyes  were  bent  upon  its  face,  marking  the  progress  of 
the  second  hand.  The  influence  of  his  attitude  was  tre- 
mendous. He  was  a  perfect  master  of  the  methods  which 
he  represented.  No  one  could  have  observed  him  and 
failed  to  realize  that  here  was  a  man  who,  with  the  same 
extraordinary  callousness,  could  easily  have  stepped  to 
the  side  of  a  fainting  woman,  and,  without  a  qualm,  have 
placed  the  muzzle  of  a  revolver  to  her  temple  and  blown 
her  brains  out,  as  had  been  done  in  Belgium. 

Vita  watched  him,  fascinated  and  terrified.  The  silent 
moments  slipped  away  with  the  inevitability  which  no 
human  power  can  stay. 

Von  Berger  looked  up.  The  measure  of  his  eyes  was 
coldly  calculating. 

"  You  have  ten  seconds,"  he  said,  and  returned  to  his 
contemplation  of  the  moving  hand. 

The  strain  was  unendurable.  Vita  felt  that  she  must 
scream.  Her  will  was  yielding  before  the  moral  terror 
this  man  inspired.  There  was  no  hope  of  help.  No 
hope  anywhere.  The  fire  shook  down,  and  she  started, 
her  nerves  on  edge.  She  glanced  over  at  Von  Salzinger. 
Instantly  his  features  stirred  to  that  meaning  expression 
of  sympathy.  Now,  however,  it  only  revolted  her,  and, 
as  though  drawn  by  a  magnet,  her  eyes  came  back  to  the 
bent  head  of  Von  Berger. 

Simultaneously  the  man  looked  up  and  snapped  his 
watch,  closed  and  returned  it  to  his  pocket. 

"Well?"  he  demanded,  and  the  whole  expression  of 
him  had  changed. 


THE  TIGER  SPRINGS  255 

Vita  saw  the  tigerish  light  suddenly  leap  into  his  eyes 
The  man  was  transfigured.  She  warned  herself  he  was  no 
longer  a  man.  She  could  only  regard  him  as  something 
in  the  nature  of  a  human  tiger. 

"  I  will  go,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  rendered  thick  by  her 
terror-parched  throat. 

"Ja  wohl!" 

Von  Berger  turned  and  signed  to  his  confederate. 


CHAPTER  XX 

BAR-LEIGHTON 

THE  face  that  gazed  out  at  the  driving  October  rain 
was  one  whose  expression  of  unrelieved  misery  and  hope- 
lessness might  well  have  melted  a  heart  of  flint.  The 
wide,  grey  eyes  had  lost  their  languorous  melting  delight, 
which  had  been  replaced  by  one  of  driven  desperation. 
Dark,  unhealthy  rings  had  sunk  their  way  into  the  young 
surrounding  flesh.  They  were  the  rings  of  sleeplessness, 
and  an  ominous  indication  of  the  mental  attitude  behind 
them.  The  oval  of  the  cheeks  had  become  pinched  and 
pale,  while  the  drooping  lips  added  a  pathos  that  must 
have  been  irresistible  to  a  heart  of  human  feeling. 

Vita  was  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  men  without  scruple 
or  mercy.  At  least  one  of  them  she  knew  could  claim  all 
and  more  than  such  words  expressed.  Of  the  other  she 
was  less  convinced.  In  fact,  it  was  the  thought  that  he 
was,  perhaps,  simply  under  the  control  of  the  other  which, 
she  told  herself,  made  sanity  possible.  But  even  so  it 
was  the  vaguest,  wildest  hope,  and  only  in  the  nature  of 
a  straw  to  which  to  cling  in  her  desperation. 

The  window  from  which  she  looked  out  gave  upon  a 
wildly  desolate  scene.  She  was  down  deep,  almost  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  she  admitted,  and  the  rugged  sides  of 
the  chasm,  clad  in  a  garment  of  dark  conifers  and  leafless 
branches,  rose  up  abruptly  in  every  direction  her  window 
permitted  her  gaze  to  wander. 


BAR-LEIGHTON  257 

She  had  no  understanding  of  where  she  was.  The 
journey  had  been  long.  It  had  been  swift,  too,  under 
the  skillful  driving  of  Frederick  von  Berger,  beside  whom 
Von  Salzinger  had  travelled.  She  had  a  vague  under- 
standing that  the  moon  had  been  shining  somewhere 
behind  the  car  most  of  the  time.  Therefore  she  had  de- 
cided they  were  travelling  westwards.  Then  had  come 
the  dawn  which  had  found  them  racing  across  a  wide 
and  desolate  moorland,  in  a  gale  of  wind  and  a  deluge 
of  driving  rain,  with  dense  mist  clouds  filling  to  over- 
flowing sharp  and  narrow  hollows  which  dropped  away 
from  the  high  level  like  bottomless  pits  of  mystery  and 
dread. 

There  had  been  nobody  inside  the  car  to  question  but 
her  maid,  Francella,  and  Vita  had  steadfastly  denied  her- 
self any  form  of  intercourse  with  the  woman,  under  the 
certainty  that  she  formed  part  of  the  Secret  Service  with 
which  all  unknowingly  she  had  been  surrounded. 

Then  had  come  a  moment  when  her  straining  eyes, 
striving  to  penetrate  the  rain-streaming  windows,  had  de- 
tected a  distant  view  of  a  stretch  of  water.  She  had  not 
been  certain  at  first.  But  later  she  had  detected  the  hazy 
outline  of  a  steamboat  upon  it,  with  a  long  streaming 
smoke-line  lying  behind  it.  So  she  made  up  her  mind  it 
was  the  sea. 

Even  this,  however,  gave  her  no  real  cue  to  her  where- 
abouts. For  a  moment  she  thought  of  Dartmoor,  but 
later  on  she  believed  that  that  desolate  wilderness  was 
well  inland. 

Later  again,  all  speculation  had  been  yielded  up  under 
the  painful  interest  of  the  moment.  They  were  driving 
along  the  edge  of  a  deep,  mist-laden  ravine.  Vita  had 


258  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

gazed  down  upon  it  in  awed  contemplation.  It  was  nar- 
row and  precipitous.  Then  had  happened  something 
which  made  her  shiver  and  clutch  at  the  sides  of  the  car. 
The  driver  had  swung  round  a  fierce  hairpin  bend  in  the 
road.  The  next  moment  the  downward  incline  made  her 
seek  support  lest  she  should  slide  from  her  seat.  In  a 
moment  the  car  was  swallowed  up  in  the  dense  white  fog 
of  the  ravine. 

So  she  had  come  to  her  prison,  which  she  learned  acci- 
dentally was  called  Bar-Leighton.  Whether  the  name 
applied  to  the  house  or  to  the  locality  she  never  knew. 
It  was  a  big  rambling  mansion,  deep  hidden  in  a  close 
surrounding  of  trees,  nor,  as  far  as  Vita  could  see,  was 
the  ravine  occupied  by  any  other  habitation. 

This  was  the  second  day  of  her  imprisonment.  It  had 
been  raining  when  she  arrived.  It  was  still  raining.  It 
looked  as  if  it  were  likely  to  continue  raining  for  a  month. 
Vita  had  spent  most  of  her  time  gazing  out  of  the  window. 
She  was  heart-broken  and  desperate. 

She  had  no  eyes  for  anything  but  the  cheerless  view 
beyond  the  window.  Its  attraction  was  small  enough  in 
its  repellent  austerity,  but  it  represented  freedom.  It  rep- 
resented the  life  which  was  forbidden  her.  Somewhere 
out  there  beyond,  miles  and  miles  away,  was  the  love  of 
her  life,  maybe  vainly  seeking  her.  Somewhere  out  there 
all  that  made  for  her  happiness  in  life  lay  beyond  her 
reach.  Would  she  ever  recover  it?  Would  she  ever 
listen  to  those  calm  tones  of  encouragement,  and  purpose, 
and  love  again  ?  It  seemed  impossible.  It  seemed  as 
though  the  end  of  all  things  was  about  to  be  achieved  for 
her,  now  that  the  savage  hand  of  Prussian  tyranny  had 
been  laid  upon  her. 


BAR-LE1GHTON  259 

The  treatment  meted  out  to  her  had  been  by  no  means 
hard  so  far.  She  occupied  a  suite  of  apartments  un- 
usually handsome  and  spacious.  But  they  led  from  one 
into  the  other,  and  all  the  outer  doors  were  securely 
locked.  She  had  been  handed  over  to  a  hard-faced 
matron  of  German  nationality  on  her  arrival,  nor,  from 
that  moment,  had  she  been  permitted  sight  of  either  of 
her  male  captors. 

It  was  this  dreadful  isolation,  this  suspense,  which  af- 
fected her.  Was  she  to  remain  here  indefinitely,  ignorant 
of  her  father's  movements,  of  all  that  might  be  happening 
to  her  lover,  of  the  possible  disaster  to  all  those  plans  to 
which  she  had  so  completely  lent  herself  ?  The  thought 
was  maddening.  It  was  completely  unbearable.  She 
wanted  to  weep,  to  scream.  But  she  did  neither.  She 
sat  on  in  a  window-seat  in  the  splendid  sitting-room,  and 
gazed  miserably  out  on  the  depressing  aspect  which 
thrust  her  lower  and  lower  in  the  deeps  of  despair. 

If  Vita  had  been  permitted  no  further  sight  of  her 
captors  it  was  not  because  they  had  taken  their  departure 
from  the  precincts  of  the  prison  they  had  prepared  for  her. 
On  the  contrary.  With  the  arrival  of  Prince  von  Berger 
at  this  retreat,  hidden  so  deeply  in  the  remoteness  of 
some  of  the  wildest  of  the  west  country,  the  place  became 
a  hive  of  secret  activity.  Many  visitors  came  and  went, 
but  mostly  at  night.  And  so  contrived  were  their  move- 
ments, that  never  for  one  moment  did  the  mansion  lose 
its  appearance  of  neglect  in  the  hands  of  an  indifferent 
caretaker. 

Amongst  those  who  visited  the  place  at  night  was  Jo- 
hann  Stryj,  and  with  him  a  man  named  Emile  Heuferman. 
It  was  a  far  cry  from  Dorby  to  Bar-Leighton,  but  distance 


260  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

seemed  to  have  no  concern  for  these  people,  who  were 
served  by  cars  of  great  speed  and  power.  It  was  obvi- 
ous that  Frederick  von  Berger's  visit  to  England  had  been 
the  cue  for  great  activity  in  the  underworld  of  the  Secret 
Service,  and  that  far-reaching  powers  were  in  his  control. 

While  Vita  watched  the  desolation  of  rain-washed  wood- 
lands, Von  Berger  was  occupied  with  Johann  Stryj  and 
Heuferman  in  a  library,  which  had  obviously  once  been 
the  pride  of  a  previous  owner  of  the  house.  Von  Salz- 
inger  was  in  attendance,  too,  and,  for  more  than  two 
hours,  it  was  pretty  evident  these  four  had  been  in  close 
consultation  on  matters  of  vital  interest. 

It  was  obvious,  too,  that  Heuferman  was  of  lesser  degree 
than  his  companion,  Stryj,  for  it  was  to  the  latter  Von 
Berger  chiefly  addressed  himself  and  from  whom  he  ex- 
tracted the  information  he  needed.  All  the  talk  was  of 
Dorby,  and  during  it  the  name  of  Farlow  frequently 
mixed  itself  into  the  details.  The  manner  of  these  men 
was  devoid  of  all  heat.  Von  Berger  might  have  been  a 
machine,  so  frigidly  precise  was  his  whole  attitude. 
Johann  Stryj  spoke  only  the  words  necessary,  with  an  ef- 
fect and  decision  which  must  have  left  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired by  his  exalted  superior.  Von  Salzinger  was  reduced 
to  a  mere  observer,  but  Heuferman  became  an  object  for 
the  reception  of  explicit  instructions,  which,  for  the  most 
part,  he  received  with  monosyllabic  acquiescence. 

It  was  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that  the  meeting 
terminated.  When  Johann  Stryj  and  his  companion  had 
taken  their  departure  Frederick  von  Berger  turned  to  the 
silent  ex-Captain-General.  His  eyes  were  speculative.  It 
was  the  cold  calculation  of  a  mind  seeking  to  complete  a 
half-formed  train  of  thought. 


BAR-LEIGHTON  261 

"  What  were  your  relations  with  this  woman — before 
the  war  ?  " 

Von  Salzinger  started.  A  flush  tinted  his  heavy  features 
a  sort  of  copper  hue. 

"  I — don't  understand,  Excellency." 

That  odd  flicker  of  the  eyelids  which  seemed  to  be  the 
only  indication  of  a  lighter  mood  accompanied  Von 
Berger's  next  words. 

"  Yet  it  is  not  difficult.  Information  tells  us  that  you 
at  one  time  sought  to  marry  her.  Since  coming  to  Eng- 
land you  renewed  your  acquaintance.  I  desire  the  exact 
explanation.  I  may  need  to  use  the — relationship." 

The  flush  had  left  the  other's  cheeks.  His  eyes  took 
on  a  smile  of  meaning. 

"  At  one  time  I  had  such  thoughts.  Now  I  have  no 
desire  to — marry  her." 

"Ah!" 

Von  Berger  had  faced  round  from  the  library  table  at 
which  he  was  seated,  and,  crossing  his  legs,  sat  contem- 
platively with  his  elbows  supported  on  the  arms  of  his 
chair  and  his  chin  resting  upon  his  clasped  hands. 

Von  Salzinger  stirred. 

"  I  regard  her  now  as  one  of  my  country's  enemies. 
There  can  be  no  thought  of  marriage  with  one's  country's 
enemy.  Such  can  never  receive  the  consideration  we  dis- 
play towards  our  own  womankind.  In  war  the  woman  is 
the  prize  of  the  victor.  That  is  real  war." 

The  callous  brutality  of  the  man  was  revolting.  But 
the  other  gave  no  sign.  He  contented  himself  with  a 
continuance  of  his  cold  regard,  and  a  further  ejaculation. 

Encouraged  by  this  negative  sign  of  approval  Von 
Salzinger  ventured  an  interrogation! 


262  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"How  can  my  relations  with  her  further  your  plans, 
Excellency  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure — yet."  Then  Von  Berger  be- 
stirred himself.  "  It  is  necessary  to  lay  hands  on  Von 
Hertzwohl — at  once,  and " 

He  broke  off.  At  that  moment  a  knock  at  the  door 
interrupted  him. 

Von  Salzinger  sprang  to  his  feet  and  hurried  across 
the  room.  After  reclosing  the  door  he  returned  to  Von 
Berger. 

"Vassilitz  has  brought  this  telegram.  It  arrived  last 
night  at  Redwithy  Farm.  Does  your  Excellency  wish  to 
speak  to  him  ?" 

Von  Berger  took  the  message  and  opened  it.  It 
was  addressed  to  Madame  Vladimir  at  Redwithy  Farm. 
The  set  of  his  features  relaxed  as  he  read  the  brief 
communication.  Then  he  passed  it  across  to  Von  Salz- 
inger. 

"  Much  news  in  a  few  words,"  was  his  comment. 

The  other  perused  the  telegram  carefully.  It  came 
from  Dorby  — 

"  All's  well.  Arrived  safely.  Returning  to  town. 
Love. — RUXTON." 

"It  means ?" 

"Von  Hertzwohl  has  arrived  in  England.  At  Dorby. 
Also  that  he  returns  to  London — Farlow,  I  mean,  and 
that  he  is  obviously  the  lover  of  the  woman  whom  you 
regard  as  the  prize  of  the  victor.  Tell  Vassilitz  to  return 
to  the  farm  without  delay,  to  remain  watchful,  and  to 
continue  to  act  as  instructed.  I  must  interview  the 
Princess." 


BAR-LEIGHTON  263 

Vita's  painful  contemplation  and  misery  were  rudely 
broken  in  upon.  Just  as  the  shadows  of  the  dreary  day 
were  beginning  to  deepen  prematurely  the  door  of  her 
sitting-room  was  silently  thrust  open,  and  Frederick  von 
Berger  made  his  unwelcome  appearance. 

He  stood  for  one  moment  contemplating  the  beautiful 
drooping  figure  without  the  smallest  sign  of  emotion. 
Then  he  moved  forward  over  the  polished  floor,  and  the 
sound  of  his  approach  acted  like  an  electric  current  upon 
the  woman  at  the  window.  She  had  been  caught  at  a 
disadvantage,  but,  in  an  instant,  all  her  pride  and  cour- 
age rose  superior  to  every  other  emotion.  She  sat  up, 
and  the  haughty  displeasure  in  her  eyes  found  vent  in 
cold  words  which  must  have  stung  deeply  any  other 
personality  but  that  of  their  present  object. 

"  It  would  be  superfluous  to  protest  at  an  intrusion 
where  neither  honesty,  justice,  nor. a  sense  of  decency 
exists.  All  I  can  hope  for  is  that  whatever  your  business 
may  be  you  will  complete  it,  and  relieve  me  of  your 
obnoxious  presence  as  quickly  as  possible." 

There  was  a  cold  scorn  in  the  simple  words  which  was 
enhanced  threefold  by  reason  of  the  calm  with  which 
they  were  delivered. 

If  Frederick  von  Berger  appreciated  it  he  gave  no  sign. 
The  words  might  not  have  been  spoken  in  so  far  as  they 
deflected  for  a  second  the  purpose  of  his  coming. 

He  came  close  up  to  the  window  in  which  Vita  was 
sitting.  His  gaze  avoided  her  and  was  directed  towards 
the  gloomy  prospect  beyond  it.  His  powerful  figure  was 
carried  erectly,  doubtless  from  the  severity  of  his  early 
military  training,  but  it  possessed  a  litheness  quite  un- 
usual, a  litheness  which  the  angular  figure  of  Von  Salz- 


264  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

inger  completely  lacked.  The  latent  strength  of  the  man 
was  indomitable,  and  under  other  conditions  it  would 
have  been  something  the  woman  must  have  admired. 
Now  she  only  saw  the  cruelty  in  his  hard  eyes,  and  the 
absolutely  cold  set  of  the  features  which  seemed  rendered 
immobile  thereby. 

He  raised  one  foot  and  rested  it  upon  the  window-seat, 
and,  bending  so  that  an  arm  rested  upon  his  knee,  he 
glanced  down  into  the  averted  face. 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  your  position  has  some- 
what changed  since  you  became  my  guest  here,"  he  said, 
in  level  tones.  "  To  my  very  great  regret  it  has  been 
discovered  that  you  are  as  deeply  concerned  in  the  plot 
which  has  cost  us  the  secrets  of  Borga  as  those  others. 
I  have  received  a  telegram,  intended  for  you,  announcing 
your  father's  arrival  in  this  country.  The  manner  in 
which  it  is  written  conveys  beyond  doubt  that  you  are 
perfectly  intimate  with'  all  the  plans  of  the  conspiracy, 
and  even  that  one  of  the  people  most  concerned  is  your 
lover.  So  you  see  that  changes  the  aspect  of  the  matter 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned." 

"  You  have  intercepted  a  message  from  Mr.  Ruxton 
Farlow?" 

Vita's  face  was  no  longer  averted.  All  her  woman's 
pride  was  outraged.  To  think  that  this  creature's  eyes 
should  have  read  the  lines  which  Ruxton  had  meant  only 
for  hers.  She  thought  nothing  of  the  significance  of  her 
own  position  as  a  result  of  that  letter.  Only  was  the 
sacrilege  this  man  had  committed  apparent  to  her. 

She  believed  she  was  dealing  merely  with  a  mechanism 
of  Prussian  tyranny.  She  was  incapable  of  regarding 
this  man  as  anything  else.  But  Frederick  von  Berger 


BAR-LEIGHTON  265 

had  calculated  every  word  he  had  uttered.  Human 
nature  was  a  lifelong  study  with  him — even  that  which 
he  could  claim  for  his  own. 

"  Exactly,"  he  replied.  "  And  the  fact  has  made  your 
position  very  precarious,  very  precarious  indeed." 

The  significance  of  his  simple  statement  would  no 
longer  be  denied.  Vita  caught  her  breath.  Her  swift, 
upward  glance  in  his  direction  had  something  of  the 
alarm  which  he  desired  to  witness  in  it. 

He  removed  his  foot  from  the  silken  cushion  and  stood 
up. 

"  Princess,"  he  went  on,  "  I  came  to  England  with  very 
stringent  orders " 

"  Who  gives  Frederick  von  Berger  orders?"  cried  Vita 
impulsively.  "  Not  even  the  Emperor.  There  is  only 
one  person  who  gives  orders  to  Prince  von  Berger  in 
Germany — himself.  It  is  useless  to  deny  it.  All  that 
you  have  done  here — are  doing — is  of  your  own  initia- 
tive." 

But  the  man  continued  as  though  the  interruption  had 
not  taken  place. 

"  The  orders  I  have  received  admit  of  only  one  course 
of  action — the  punishment  by  death  of  the  traitors  to  my 
country,  and  the  complete  nullification  of  the  effects  of 
the  plot.  These  things  will  be  carried  out  regardless  of 
all  cost  and  consequence.  There  will  be  no  tempering 
with  mercy.  Justice,  cold  justice  alone  will  be  meted  out 
— regardless  of  sex." 

"  The  question  of  justice  I  doubt.  The  matter  of  sex  is 
a  foregone  conclusion.  There  is  ample  precedent  for  that." 

The  bitterness  of  the  woman's  words  came  from  her 
heart.  She  knew  that  he  was  threatening  that  her  life 


266  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

was  forfeit,  but  the  fact  seemed  to  leave  her  untouched 
since  that  first  swift  glance  of  apprehension. 

"  The  point  is  not  one  which  I  care  to  debate,"  the 
man  returned,  with  his  curious,  simple  directness.  "  It 
is  not  for  me  to  possess  an  opinion  on  any  matter  where 
authority  or  the  conduct  of  the  State  is  concerned.  I 
can  only  assure  you  that  duty  will  be  carried  out  inex- 
orably. For  you  the  position  becomes  deplorable.  For 
you  to  have  committed  yourself  to  intrigues  which  have 
for  their  purpose  the  betrayal  of  your  country  is  an  out- 
rage which  calls  for  no  mercy.  You  will  have  to  face  a 
penalty  similar  to  that  which  awaits  your  father.  That 
.penalty  is — death." 

"Death!" 

The  echo  came  in  a  whisper.  It  was  a  startled  whis- 
per, as  though  Vita's  brain  were  striving  to  grasp  the  full 
significance  of  the  word  as  applied  to  herself.  Her  eyes 
were  no  longer  on  the  man's  face.  They  were  contem- 
plating the  scene  beyond  the  window  without  observing 
it. 

Then,  slowly,  a  change  came  over  her.  Her  body 
seemed  to  draw  itself  erect.  The  scorn  that  had  lain  in 
her  eyes  a  few  minutes  ago  had  given  place  to  a  curious 
cold  calm.  Her  shapely  lips  compressed  tightly,  and 
she  faced  unflinchingly  the  man  who  had  pronounced 
the  sentence.  Her  eyes  regarded  him  for  some  thought- 
ful moments.  It  almost  seemed  as  though  she  were 
striving  to  probe  beneath  that  cold  mask  to  the  thoughts 
and  emotions  which  she  felt  must  lie  behind  it.  Then  a 
curious  smile  grew  in  them,  a  smile  of  renewed  contempt 
that  must  have  been  insupportable  to  a  man  of  any  feel- 
ing. 


BAR-LEIGHTON  267 

"And  the  alternative?  I  suppose  there  is  an  alter- 
native. A  death  sentence  so  pronounced  is  generally 
inspired  by  an  all-important  alternative.  Do  you  desire 
me  to  betray  my  friends  ?  Do  you  desire  me  to  hand  my 
father  over  to  execution  ?  Do  you  desire  me  to  tell  you 
where  the  secrets  you  desire  to  recover  are  bestowed  ? 
Do  you  desire  me  to  assist  you  to  restore  to  your  country 
the  cruel  means  with  which  you  hope  to  crush  the  heart 
of  humanity  some  time  in  the  future  ?  Let  me  hear  it  all, 
the  whole  depth  to  which  you  desire  to  force  me  to  de- 
scend. I  have  always  wondered  at  the  possible  profun- 
dity to  which  the  Prussian  mind  can  descend  in  its  lack  of 
human  understanding.  Well,  Prince,  you  had  better  say 
all  you  have  to  say  now.  For  after  this  I  shall  claim  the 
privilege  of  every  condemned  person  to  pass  out  of  the 
world  in  peace."  Then  her  contemptuous  smile  deep- 
ened. "  But  perhaps  I  am  to  be  denied  that  privilege. 
Perhaps  there  is  no  such  privilege  in  the  Prussian  code. 
Perhaps  I  am  to  be  placed  upon  the  rack,  and  tortured 
until  I  confess.  I  feel  it  would  only  be  a  fitting  outcome 
of  the  Kultur  to  which  your  countrymen  have  risen.  I 
am  waiting  to  hear  anything  further  you  have  to  say." 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  tell  from  the  man's 
attitude  the  effect  of  these  words.  Not  a  muscle  of  his 
features  stirred.  His  regard  remained  coldly  contem- 
plative. 

"There  is  no  alternative,"  he  said.  "  Your  crime  ad- 
mits of  none.  We  place  no  value  upon  any  information 
you  could  give  us.  Our  means  are  perfect  for  obtaining 
it  ourselves.  To  prove  it  I  can  assure  you  of  things 
which  perhaps  you  do  not  know  yourself.  The  plans 
which  your  friends  stole  are  even  now  in  the  yards  at 


268  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Dorby  in  Yorkshire.  The  construction  of  submersible 
vessels  is  going  on  under  Admiralty  supervision  and  pro- 
tection, a  matter  carefully  arranged  by  your  lover,  Rux- 
ton  Farlow.  Your  father  is  at  Dorby,  and  his  private 
submersible  is  moored  in  an  inner  dock  at  Farlow,  Son 
and  Farlow's  yards.  These  are  all  facts  you  may  be 
aware  of,  but  there  are  others  which  you  certainly  are 
not.  One  of  them  is  that  these  constructions  are  about 
to  be  destroyed  by  explosion,  and  the  plans  too.  Later 
on  there  will  be  further  developments.  As  for  the  torture 
you  suggest,  that,  too,  is  unnecessary.  I  have  yet  to 
learn  of  a  greater  torture  which  a  young,  rich,  and  beau- 
tiful woman  can  endure  than  the  thought  of  being  torn 
from  the  arms  of  the  hero  whom  she  has  foolishly  per- 
mitted herself  to  worship.  There  can  be  nothing  more 
painful  to  her  than  to  contemplate  in  her  last  moments 
the  happiness  which  she  is  denied  being  enjoyed  by  some 
other  woman  when  her  own  penalty  has  been  paid.  My 
reasoning  is  only  a  man's,  but " 

"  A  devil's  1 " 

Vita's  calm  had  deserted  her.  Horror  and  loathing 
struggled  for  place  in  her  wide  shining  eyes. 

The  man  looked  on  unmoved. 

"  As  you  will,  Princess,"  he  said,  with  that  curious 
flicker  of  the  eyelids.  "  But  now,  since  I  have  completed 
the  business  of  my  visit,  I  will  relieve  you  of  my  obnox- 
ious presence.  When  the  time  comes  you  will  be  given 
half  an  hour  to  prepare  yourself  for  the  execution  of  your 
sentence." 

He  moved  away.  The  shadows  of  the  room  swallowed 
him  up.  Then,  a  moment  later,  Vita  heard  the  door  close 
behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ENEMY  MOVEMENTS 

RUXTON'S  return  to  town  from  Dorby  was  made  by 
special  train  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  It  had  been 
inspired  by  an  irresistible  impulse,  born  of  an  apprehen- 
sion which  his  great  love  for  Vita  inspired. 

Prince  von  Hertzwohl  had  only  sheltered  one  night 
under  the  roof  of  Dorby  Towers.  Sir  Andrew  had  been 
urgent  that  he  should  remain  his  guest  indefinitely,  feel- 
ing that  the  safety  of  an  Englishman's  home  was  the  best 
of  all  havens  for  this  large,  simple-minded  Pole.  But 
Vita's  father  proved  something  of  his  daughter's  estimate 
of  him.  His  gratitude  and  thanks  had  been  sincere  and 
cordial,  but  he  displayed  an  understanding  of  the  situa- 
tion which  astonished  his  hosts,  and  a  decision  that  re- 
sisted all  appeal. 

"  Dear  friends,"  he  had  urged,  "  it  cannot  be.  It  is  a 
joy  to  me,  so  great,  to  feel  the  warm  shelter  of  your  per- 
fect English  home.  I  love  the  parks,  the  wide  moor,  the 
white  cliffs.  But  I  love  more  than  all  the  generosity  and 
kindliness  of  your  friendship.  But  you  do  not  yet  grasp 
what  all  this  means.  These  people  will  have  my  life,  and 
your  locks  and  bars  will  be  no  obstacle  to  their  Secret 
Service.  They  will  get  me  here,  as  they  would  get  me  in 
their  own  country.  Nor  can  we  say  what  danger  I 
might  not  expose  you  to.  No,  my  course  is  quite  simple. 
I  will  show  you  to-night." 


2/o  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Father  and  son  were  reluctantly  forced  to  acquiesce. 

That  night,  after  dinner,  the  shrewdness  of  Vita's  father 
was  displayed.  He  departed  to  his  bedroom,  and,  an  hour 
later,  he  reappeared  in  the  smoking-room. 

The  metamorphosis  was  perfect.  An  unkempt  indi- 
vidual, lean,  dirty,  and  slouching,  entered  the  room  and 
made  its  way  to  the  fire.  His  beard  and  moustache  were 
gone,  and  he  was  clad  in  the  greasy  clothes  and  discolored 
overalls  of  a  riverside  mechanic.  The  disguise  was  so 
perfect  that  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  both  father 
and  son  were  able  to  recognize  him.  Later  on  he  left  the 
house,  and  set  out  for  the  town  of  Dorby.  It  was  his  pur- 
pose to  lose  himself  amongst  the  thousands  of  workers 
who  peopled  the  waterside,  and  so,  while  keeping  in  touch 
with  Dorby  Towers,  completely  sink  his  identity.  Nor 
was  it  until  after  profound  consideration  that  Ruxton  and 
his  father  realized  the  wonderful  but  simple  astuteness  of 
the  man's  move. 

It  was  the  second  night  following  this  event  that  Rux- 
ton's  own  resolve  was  arrived  at.  It  was  over  forty-eight 
hours  since  he  had  dispatched  his  telegram  to  Vita  telling 
her  of  her  father's  arrival  and  safety.  He  should  have 
received  a  reply  in  under  six  hours.  No  reply,  however, 
had  been  forthcoming. 

At  first  Ruxton  had  been  patient.  There  had  been 
much  to  occupy  him  of  an  important  nature  at  the  ship- 
yards. He  had  had  little  time  to  think  of  anything  else. 
The  constructions  were  steadily  growing  under  the  ener- 
getic hands  of  his  engineers  and  marine  architects.  Al- 
ready the  promise  of  the  future  was  taking  definite  shape. 
The  work,  pressed  on  at  his  urging,  was  proceeding 
apace.  Already  the  completed  outlines  of  two  of  the 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  271 

hulls  filled  twin  slipways.  His  enthusiasm  was  growing 
with  the  rapidity  of  a  man  of  keen  imagination.  His 
dreams  were  becoming  real,  tangible.  The  experiment 
was  full  of  a  promise  which  weeks  ago  had  no  place  in 
his  almost  despairing  regard  of  the  future. 

But  at  night  there  was  less  occupation  for  his  mind, 
and  inevitably  his  thoughts  flew  at  once  to  the  woman 
who  had  opened  out  to  him  the  radiant  possibilities  of  his 
future.  No  reply  had  reached  him  on  that  first  night,  and 
unease  began  to  make  itself  felt.  He  mentioned  the  matter 
to  his  father  with  marked  unconcern.  The  shrewd  York- 
shire eyes  which  regarded  him  were  blandly  uncurious. 

"  Did  you  word  it  for  reply  ?  "  he  enquired,  glancing  up 
from  the  pictorial  periodical  he  was  looking  at. 

Ruxton  had  not  worded  it  particularly  so,  he  assured 
him,  with  a  glance  of  trouble  in  his  dark  eyes. 

Then  the  old  man  went  on  with  his  paper. 

"  I  shouldn't  worry  about  it,"  he  said  calmly.  "  It  must 
have  been  delivered,  or  it  would  have  been  returned  to  you." 

But  the  assurance  was  without  effect  upon  the  lover. 
He  said  no  more  then,  but  at  dinner  the  following  even- 
ing his  anxiety  would  no  longer  be  denied: 

The  butler  had  withdrawn.  Ruxton  had  been  unusually 
disinclined  to  talk  during  the  meal.  The  keen  brain  of 
his  father  had  summed  up  the  reason  to  a  fraction,  but, 
with  quiet  understanding,  he  had  waited  for  the  unburden- 
ing which  he  knew  would  soon  come. 

It  came  as  Ruxton,  ignoring  the  dessert,  sat  back  in  his 
chair  and  lit  a  cigar. 

"  I've  ordered  a  special  train  for  town,  Dad ;  I  can't 
stand  the  suspense  any  longer." 

"  You  mean — the  answer  to  your  message."     Sir  An- 


272  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

drew  made  no  attempt  to  misunderstand  him.  "  But 
where  is  the  suspense  ?  It  was  a  message  of — his  arrival, 
I  understand.  The  answer  was  optional." 

"  Optional  ?  Ah,  you  don't  understand."  Just  for  a 
moment  the  trouble  seemed  to  pass  out  of  the  younger 
man's  eyes.  He  was  contemplating  the  wonderful  love 
which  had  come  to  him.  He  breathed  a  deep  sigh. 
"  Look  here,  Dad,  what  would  you  have  felt  like — you 
know,  say  just  before  you  married  my  mother,  if  you  sent 
her  an  urgent  message  by  wire  and  received  no  reply  ? 
Why,  in  the  past  twenty-four  hours  you'd  have  been 
driving  in  a  stage  coach,  or  something  equally  slow,  to 
find  out  the  reason,  if  I  know  anything.  There  are  a 
dozen  things  I  could  have  done.  I  could  have  kept  the 
wires  humming  incessantly — but  for  possibilities.  Those 
possibilities  have  restrained  me.  But  now  I  can  wait  no 
longer.  I  must  see  Vita  myself  and  assure  myself  that 
nothing  is — wrong.  Dad,  it's  the  whole  world  to  me.  I 
can't  wait  any  longer.  I  love  her,  and  I  am  going  to 
marry  her.  That's  where  the  suspense  lies." 

"  That's  how  I  supposed,"  Sir  Andrew  nodded,  his 
shrewd  eyes  twinkling.  "  One  has  to  endure  many 
anxious  moments  under  such  circumstances.  I  have 
known  them  myself.  You  leave  at " 

"  Three  A.  M." 

The  old  man  nodded. 

"  I've  not  met  her  yet,  boy,"  he  said  kindly,  "  though," 
he  added  slyly,  "  I  seem  as  if  I  did  know  her.  You  see, 
you've  spoken  of  her  a  lot.  Well,  if  she's  half  the  woman 
you  have  told  me  she  is,  I  congratulate  you  heartily. 
Somehow,  boy,  I  feel  sure  she  is.  Yes,  it  is  as  well  to  go 
— with  possibilities  hanging  over  us  all." 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  273 

He  rose  from  the  table  and  held  out  his  hand  as  Rux- 
ton  followed  his  example. 

"The  very  best  of  luck,  boy,  and — will  you  give 
her  my  love?  You  can  leave  the  work  here  in  my 
hands.'' 

The  two  men  clasped  hands  with  a  vigor  such  as  be- 
longed to  two  strong  natures,  and  then,  as  they  moved  off 
to  the  library,  they  fell  to  discussing  those  "  possibilities  " 
to  which  Ruxton  had  alluded. 

Ruxton's  anxiety  was  no  mere  impatience  of  a  hot- 
headed lover.  He  had  not  permitted  his  imagination  to 
distort  things  out  of  a  real  proportion.  He  knew  that 
their  Teutonic  enemies  were  able  to  lay  hands  upon  Vita 
if  they  decided  upon  such  a  course.  And  all  too  late  he 
had  realized  that  his  message  had  been  an  indiscretion. 
Once  having  arrived  at  this  realization,  the  rest  followed 
in  painful  sequence.  If  his  message,  though  carefully 
worded,  had  fallen  into  enemy  hands,  the  possibilities 
such  an  event  opened  up  were  illimitable. 

It  was  between  ten  and  eleven  in  the  morning  that  he 
presented  himself  at  the  flat  in  Kensington. 

On  his  way  up  the  stairs  he  received  his  first  shock. 
It  was  no  less  than  an  encounter  with  Mrs.  Jenkins  on  her 
way  down  them,  garbed  in  her  long  outdoor  ulster,  such 
as  all  women  of  her  class  seem  to  possess,  bearing  under 
one  arm  an  ominous-looking  bundle. 

He  stopped  her,  or  rather  she  provoked  attention  her- 
self by  a  dry  cough  and  a  prolonged,  moist  sniff. 

"You  goin'  up  to 'er  flat?"  she  demanded;  "'cos  if 
you  are  she  ain't  in." 

There  was  a  sort  of  defiant  displeasure  in  her  words 


274  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

that,  to  Ruxton,  might  have  been  just  her  natural  form 
of  address,  or  might  not  have  been. 

He  paused,  glanced  down  at  her  bundle,  and  finally 
regarded  her  severely. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  demanded. 

"  Don't  see  it's  your  bizness.  Any'ow  I'm  goin'  to  do 
a  bit  o'  shoppin'." 

Then  Ruxton  adopted  a  high  hand. 

"  Well,  just  come  back  up-stairs  a  minute.  Your  shop- 
ping will  keep.  I  want  to  speak  to  you  on  a  matter  of 
importance.  Come  along." 

He  moved  on  up  the  stairs,  and  Mrs.  Jenkins,  used  to 
obeying  somebody  at  all  times,  followed  him  protestingly. 

"  I  don't  see  I  got  no  right  any'ow.  But  wot  with  her 
bein'  away,  and  stoppin'  away,  and  me  'avin'  no  food  to 
eat,  as  you  might  say,  an'  my  wages  overdue,  an'  the  bills 
unpaid,  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  Maybe  you  got  my 
wages  with  you,  bein'  a  friend  of  'ers  ?  " 

But  Ruxton  offered  no  explanation  until  they  reached 
the  flat  and  the  door  of  it  was  securely  shut  behind  them. 
Then  he  turned  upon  her  with  a  forcefulness  that  reduced 
her  to  the  necessary  condition  for  giving  all  the  informa- 
tion he  needed  with  the  least  superfluous  verbiage. 

"  Look  here,  Mrs.  Jenkins,  I  just  want  a  few  straight 
answers  to  a  few  plain  questions.  Remember,  the  mat- 
ters I'm  going  to  question  you  on  are  of  vital  importance 
— very  vital  importance.  I  just  want  plain  truth  and 
nothing  else." 

"Truth!  You'll  say  I'm  lyin'  next.  Wot  d'yer  want 
to  know  ?  My  motter  is  allus  tell  the  truth  an'  shame 
the  devil." 

"  Yes,  yes,  that's  all  right.     Where's  your  mistress  ?  " 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  275 

The  woman  sniffed,  while  she  eyed  him  distrustfully. 

"  Dunno.     Ain't  see  'er  since  you  was  'ere  last." 

"  When  did  you  expect  her?  " 

"  Why,  next  day,  o'  course.  She  allus  come  'ere  every 
day  'less  she  sed.  'Sides,  my  wages  was  due  next 
day,  an'  there's  the  'ousekeepin'  money.  I  ain't  got 
neither.  I  writ  'er  to  'er  home,  but  ain't  'ad  no  answer. 
I  got  to  eat,  an'  I  ain't  got  nothin'  t'  eat  in  the  place,  so 
I  was  just  goin'  to  slip  round  with  a  pair  o'  blankets 
an'  get  a  loan.  Y'  see  I  didn't  know  wot  to  do,  an'  I 
tho't "  She  broke  off  with  a  fresh  sniff. 

Ruxton  produced  some  money  and  handed  her  two 
sovereigns. 

"  There,  that'll  keep  you  going.  Now  all  I  want  from 
you  are  these  facts.  You  haven't  seen  her  since  I  was 
here,  and  you  expected  her  next  day.  You  wrote  to  her 
and  received  no  reply.  The  last  time  you  saw  her  she 
was  leaving  for  her — home.  That  so  ?  " 

The  woman  nodded  and  sniffed. 

"  Yes,  sir."     The  gold  had  impressed  her. 

"  Very  well.  Now  I  want  you  to  keep  on  here  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  You  shall  have  your  money 
regularly.  Look  after  your  mistress's  things  carefully, 
and  if  any  one  calls  here,  any  visitors,  men,  or— or 
strangers,  let  me  know.  There,  that  card  will  give 
you  my  address.  If  I'm  not  there  my  secretary  will 
take  any  message  for  me.  I'm  afraid  some  accident 
must  have  happened  to  your  mistress.  I  am  going  to 
find  out  with  the  help  of  the — police.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  Whatever  you  do,  don't  talk." 

By  the  time  he  had  finished  the  poor  woman  was 
thoroughly  alarmed,  and  showed  it. 


276  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  My,  sir,  I  do  'ope  nothin'  'as  'appened  serious-like. 
She  was  allus  a  venturesome  one,  as  you  might  say, 
goin'  about,  an'  I  allus  was  a-tellin'  of  'er " 

"Yes,  yes;  that's  all  right  The  thing  is,  I've  got  to 
find  out.  Now,  you  see  and  do  as  I  have  said,  and  your 
mistress  will  thank  you.  Nor  shall  I  forget.  Remember, 
if  any  one  calls  for  her,  get  their  names  and  remember 
their  faces,  and — don't  talk." 

He  hurried  away,  and  passed  down  the  uninviting 
stairs  at  a  run.  Two  minutes  later  he  was  in  a  taxi, 
driving  at  a  breakneck  speed  for  Smith  Square. 

Arrived  there,  he  ordered  his  own  car,  and,  while 
awaiting  its  arrival,  gave  a  string  of  instructions  to 
Heathcote.  Within  another  twenty  minutes  he  was 
in  his  car,  threading  his  way  through  the  London 
traffic  with  the  reckless  inconsequence  only  to  be  found 
in  an  ex-naval  chauffeur  urged  by  an  equally  reckless 
employer. 

A  nightmare  of  apprehension  pursued  Ruxton  over 
the  switchback  Oxford  road.  With  a  mind  clear  and 
incisive  he  had  thought  at  almost  electric  speed,  and 
planned  the  course  to  be  pursued.  In  his  brief  twenty 
minutes  with  his  secretary  he  had  carefully  detailed  all 
his  requirements.  Now  he  could  only  lie  back  in  his 
car,  while  the  sailorman,  driving  him,  obeyed  the  reck- 
less instincts  which  have  made  him  and  his  comrades 
a  byword  for  devotion.  Ruxton  demanded  speed,  and 
the  keen-eyed  chauffeur  gave  it  him.  Heavy  car  as  it 
was,  it  danced  over  the  greater  part  of  the  journey  with 
the  fantastic  and  dangerous  irresponsibility  of  a  run- 
away. But  the  man  at  the  wheel  knew  his  machine. 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  277 

The  pride  and  joy  of  his  life  was  that  he  was  the  driver 
of  eighty  horse- power.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  been  permitted  to  test  the  accuracy  of  the  maker's 
claims. 

But  to  Ruxton  the  speed  was  a  snail  gait,  and  it 
seemed  to  him,  on  that  brief  journey  to  Wednesford, 
that  he  lived  through  centuries  of  despairing  anxiety 
and  doubts.  Had  these  devils  got  at  Vita  ?  The 
burden  of  his  cry  was  based  on  all  the  experiences  of 
the  late  war.  Yet  what  could  they  do?  What  would 
they  dare  do,  here  in  England  ?  He  tried  to  reassure 
himself.  But  it  was  a  vain  attempt.  He  knew,  only 
too  well,  the  ruthless  audacity  of  these  people.  Then 
he  blamed  himself  that  he  had  not  insisted  that  Vita 
should  have  abandoned  her  home  in  Buckinghamshire 
when  she  first  told  him  of  Von  Salzinger's  visit.  Was 
not  that  sufficient  warning  for  any  sane  mind  ?  Did 
it  not  clearly  prove  that  Vita  was  watched?  And,  if 
she  were  watched,  did  it  not  point  the  purpose  in  the 
Teutonic  mind  to  act  if  it  suited  it  ?  Of  course  it  did. 
He  was  to  blame,  seriously  to  blame — if  anything  had 
happened  to  her.  He  remembered  Vassilitz  and  the 
inspiration  his  doings  had  awakened  in  him.  He  must 
have  been  mad  not  to  think  further — mad  or  incompe- 
tent. 

So  his  feverish  imagination  ran  on  and  tortured  him 
as  no  other  anxiety  could  have  tortured  him.  And  then 
came  the  relief  of  further  action. 

He  reached  Wednesford  all  too  soon  for  his  sailorman, 
who  would  have  infinitely  preferred  continuing  his  reck- 
less journey  to  Land's  End  and  then — back  again.  How- 
ever, he  removed  his  foot  from  the  accelerator  and  drew 


278  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

up  at  the  police-station  of  the  little  old  market  town  in  a 
perfectly  decorous  fashion.  The  local  chief  was  awaiting 
the  car,  and  Ruxton  was  conducted  promptly  to  that 
officer's  private  room. 

The  chief  superintendent  was  a  florid-faced,  bulldog- 
looking  man  of  about  forty,  vigorous,  alert,  but  possess- 
ing no  outward  sign  of  particular'  mentality.  He  was 
all  deference  for  his  visitor. 

"  I  received  the  telephone  message,  sir,"  he  said  at 
once,  "and  acted  upon  it.  I  sent  a  plain-clothes  man 
out  to  Redwithy  with  instructions  to  ascertain  if  Madame 
Vladimir  was  at  her  residence,  and,  if  not,  to  ascertain  if 
possible  something  of  her  recent  movements.  The  man 
should  return  now  at  any  moment."  He  pulled  out  his 
watch  and  made  a  rough  calculation.  "Yes,  he  is  quite 
due  now.  Would  you  care  to  give  me  more  intimate 
particulars  ?  " 

To  find  himself  dealing  with  a  Cabinet  Minister  in 
matters  of  his  own  department  was  a  little  overwhelm- 
ing to  Chief  Superintendent  Reach,  but  he  saw  in  it  a 
possibility  of  advancement,  and  was  ready  to  surpass 
himself  in  his  efforts.  But  Ruxton  saw  no  advantage 
in  laying  the  inner  details  of  the  matter  before  the  local 
police.  If  any  such  official  aid  were  needed  it  would  be 
better  demanded  of  Scotland  Yard. 

"  For  the  moment  nothing  more  is  needed  than  the 
simple  local  information,"  he  replied.  "  On  that  de- 
pends all  future  movements.  I  will  tell  you  this,  how- 
ever. Apart  from  my  personal  interest  in  the  matter, 
there  is  certain  political  significance  in  it  of  a  very  im- 
portant nature.  More  than  that  I  cannot  say  until  your 
man " 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  279 

The  whistle  of  the  tube  on  the  officer's  desk  interrupted 
him. 

"  That's  our  man,  sir,"  beamed  Superintendent  Reach, 
more  than  satisfied  at  the  opportuneness  of  the  interrup- 
tion. "  Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  added,  and  listened  at  the 
tube. 

"  Ah,  yes.  Send  him  up  here  at  once,"  he  called 
through  it.  Then  glancing  over  at  his  visitor,  he  observed 
ungrammatically,  "  It's  him,  sir." 

A  moment  later  a  brisk  plain-clothes  man  entered  the 
room. 

"Well?"  demanded  his  chief  sharply. 

"The  lady's  been  away  about  three  days,  sir,"  he 
said,  with  the  stolidity  of  a  policeman  giving  evidence. 
"  Couldn't  tell  me  when  she'd  be  back.  Hadn't  left  any 
instructions  about  the  heating  apparatus  for  the  new 
peach-house  she  is  having  built.  The  butler  believed  the 
firm  who  were  constructing  the  house  were  to  put  in  the 
plant.  He  said  she  left  after  tea  with  her  maid  and 
luggage  for  a  journey  in  a  motor.  Not  her  own  car. 
He  thought  it  must  have  been  one  she  hired  from 
Wednesford.  I  have  been  round  the  garages,  but  no 
one  from  Redwithy  has  hired  a  car.  That's  why  I  am  a 
bit  late,  sir." 

The  chief  turned  to  Ruxton,  who  was  eagerly  intent 
upon  the  man's  information. 

"I  sent  him" — indicating  the  plain-clothes  man — "as 
a  heating  expert  from  a  well-known  horticultural  firm." 

Ruxton  nodded. 

"  You  saw  the  butler — a  foreigner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Did  you  gather  an — impression  from  him  ?  " 


280  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"He  seemed  straightforward  and  quite  ready  to  talk, 
sir.  I'm  sure  he  knew  nothing  more,  and  seemed  to  be- 
lieve what  he  said." 

"  There's  nothing  else  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  think  not.  The  place  seemed  all  reg'lar. 
You  see,  sir,  I've  often  'ad  to  keep  an  eye  on  it  when 
the  lady's  been  away  holiday-makin',  and  during  the 
war.  You  see,  she's  a  foreigner.  So  I  know  it  pretty 
well,  though  it  don't  know  me.  One  thing  that  struck 
me  he  was  speaking  truth  was  there  was  a  tidy  bunch 
of  letters  on  a  hall  table.  Might  have  been  an  accumula- 
tion." 

"  Letters — ah."  Ruxton  turned  to  the  chief.  "I  think 
you'd  better  come  with  me  and  look  into  things.  Those 

letters.     There  should  be  an  important  telegram  there — 
if » 

He  rose  from  his  chair  with  a  sickening  fear  at  his 
heart.  The  chief  dismissed  his  subordinate  and  waited 
for  Ruxton  to  complete  his  remark.  But  as  no  comple- 
tion was  forthcoming  he  attempted  one  himself. 

"  If  there's  been  no  trickery,  sir." 

"  If  she  went  away  of  her  own  free  will — that's  what 
we've  got  to  find  out.  Come  along." 

Half  an  hour  later  Ruxton  was  addressing  himself  to 
the  black-haired,  sallow-faced  Vassilitz,  who  was  urbanity 
itself  in  the  face  of  the  chief  of  the  Wednesford  police. 

His  story  was  exactly  the  same  as  he  had  told  to  the 
plain-clothes  man,  and  no  amount  of  cross-examination 
could  elicit  the  smallest  shadow  of  contradiction. 

Madame  was  frequently  in  the  habit  of  going  away 
suddenly  and  remaining  away  indefinite  periods.  But 
usually  she  used  her  own  car,  and  rarely  took  her  maid. 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  281 

Sometimes  she  said  when  she  would  be  back  ;  sometimes 
not.  On  this  occasion  she  did  not.  No,  she  was  unac- 
companied except  for  her  maid,  Francella,  Vassilitz's  own 
sister.  And  she,  Francella,  had  given  him  no  information. 
Madame  was  very  secret  in  her  movements.  Doubtless 
madame  would  return  in  due  course,  as  she  had  always 
done.  He  hoped  no  accident  had  happened.  He  was 
devoted  to  madame,  whom  he  had  known  all  his  life. 

Even  the  matter  of  letters  in  no  way  disconcerted  him. 
They  were  all  there  on  the  hall  table.  But  he  appealed 
to  the  chief  of  police  for  authority  to  show  them. 

The  chief  assumed  the  responsibility,  and  they  were 
produced. 

They  were  examined  carefully,  and  all  but  one  telegram 
were  duly  handed  back  to  the  butler.  The  telegram  was 
sequestered  by  the  officer,  but  remained  unopened. 

There  was  nothing  more  to  be  gained  from  Vassilitz, 
and  the  car  rolled  away.  And  as  they  went,  Ruxton,  in 
an  agony  of  painful  conviction,  gazed  sombrely  back  at 
the  beautiful  old  Elizabethan  structure  in  its  perfect 
setting,  which  was  the  home  of  the  woman  he  loved. 

He  was  aroused  from  his  despairing  contemplation  by 
the  voice  of  the  officer  beside  him. 

44  There's  trickery  afoot,  sir,"  he  said  emphatically, 
"and  I'll  lay  a  month's  salary  that  black-haired  Vassilitz 
is  in  it." 

Ruxton  turned  sharply. 

"  What  makes  you  so  convinced  ?  "  he  enquired  thickly. 

41  Why,  the  letters.  Every  one  of  'em  has  been  opened. 
So  has  this  telegram.  Didn't  you  twig  it,  sir  ?  " 

Ruxton  confessed  his  oversight,  and  the  officer  beamed 
pleasant  satisfaction, 


282  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  That's  where  experience  comes  in,  sir,"  he  went  on. 
"There  never  was  a  system  of  opening  letters  that 
couldn't  be  detected  by  those  who  know.  I've  made  a 
study  of  it.  Those  letters  have  all  been  opened — all  of 
'em.  What  about  this  telegram,  sir  ?  " 

"  If  it's  mine,  then  the  Princess  has  not  left  of  her  own 
free  will.  I'm  afraid  it's  mine." 

"  Princess,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes.     She's  the  Princess  von  Hertzwohl ! " 

The  officer's  face  had  become  a  study.  He  was  im- 
pressed more  deeply  than  ever. 

"  Er — shall  I  open  it,  sir?"  he  hesitated. 

Ruxton  nodded. 

"  You  may  as  well." 

The  man  tore  it  open  and  glanced  at  the  contents.  A 
flush  spread  over  his  already  florid  cheeks. 

"  It's  yours,  sir,"  he  said.  Then  he  added  in  a  low 
tone  :  "I'm — I'm  sorry,  sir." 

For  answer  he  suddenly  felt  a  forceful  clutch  on  his  arm. 

"  The  Princess  has  been  kidnapped,"  cried  Ruxton, 
in  a  voice  deep  with  passionate  intensity.  "  Do  you 
understand?  She  was  waiting  at  her  house  there  for 
that  message.  Nothing  but  force  would  have  caused 
her  to  leave  it  until  she  received  that  message." 

Ruxton's  extreme  dejection  on  his  return  to  town  was 
changed  abruptly  into  even  greater  alarm. 

His  secretary  was  nervously  awaiting  him.  Nor  could 
he  restrain  his  impatience.  Heathcote  was  in  the  hall 
when  Ruxton's  key  turned  in  the  lock.  The  young  man 
held  a  long  telegram  in  his  hand  and  flourished  it 
towards  his  employer  the  moment  the  door  closed. 


ENEMY  MOVEMENTS  283 

"It's  from  Sir  Andrew,"  he  said.  "There's  trouble 
— trouble  at  Dorby." 

Ruxton  snatched  at  the  ominous  paper  and  his  eyes 
eagerly  sought  the  boldly-written  message. 

"Explosion  here  at  6  A.  M.  Drawing  offices  com- 
pletely wrecked.  Serious  fire.  Certain  departments 
damaged  and  had  narrow  escape  complete  destruc- 
tion.— FARLOW." 

It  was  the  second  blow  in  a  few  hours.  Ruxton  was 
hit  hard.  He  read  into  the  message  all  the  ominous  facts 
which  had  been  left  unwritten. 

But  in  a  moment  he  had  been  roused  out  of  himself. 
The  loss  of  the  woman  he  loved  had  left  him  stunned 
in  a  curious  degree.  He  had  been  attacked  thereby 
through  the  sensitive  organism  which  controlled  all  that 
belonged  to  the  emotional  side  of  the  human  heart.  A 
terrible  weight  of  depression  had  overwhelmed  him  for 
the  moment.  Now  it  was  different.  Here  was  a  tan- 
gible attack.  Here  was  something  that  left  his  heart 
untouched,  but  roused  instead  all  the  human  fighting 
instinct  which  had  lain  dormant  within  him.  There  was 
no  deadening  apathy,  there  was  no  feeling  of  helpless- 
ness. He  was  alive,  alert,  and  full  of  battle.  So  he  pre- 
pared for  a  second  night  in  succession  to  be  spent  on  the 
railway. 

"  I  must  go  to  Dorby  to-night,"  he  said  briefly.  Then 
he  added,  as  he  passed  up-stairs  to  his  library :  "  Get 
on  to  Scotland  Yard  and  put  me  through." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE 

IN  the  valley  of  Bar-Leighton  the  climatic  pendulum 
had  swung  again.  A  radiant  sort  of  Indian  summer 
seemed  to  have  definitely  set  in.  Now  the  sun  was 
shining,  and  fleecy  clouds  swept  along  the  bosom  of  a 
brisk  southeasterly  breeze. 

But  the  sinister  genius  of  the  place  remained  unchang- 
ing. It  would  have  been  optimism  of  a  superlative  order 
to  claim  that  Prince  von  Berger  ever  really  changed. 
For  those  in  contact  with  him  it  was  impossible  to  believe 
him  capable  of  warmth  or  feeling.  Even  Ludwig  von 
Salzinger,  whose  human  feelings  were  of  a  grosser,  baser 
type,  regarded  him  as  a  mere  mechanism,  inspired  by 
some  brilliant  detached  evil  genius.  He  had  no  love  for 
him,  contact  with  him  depressed  him,  and  his  prevailing 
emotion  was  one  of  fear. 

Von  Berger  turned  from  the  table  at  which  he  was 
sitting.  He  passed  a  long  document  across  to  Von  Salz- 
inger, who  was  standing  before  the  log  fire  crackling  in 
the  great  dining-room  fireplace.  The  Prince  had  read  it 
through  from  beginning  to  end.  He  had  read  it  again, 
and  then  again,  so  that  its  contents  had  almost  been 
committed  to  memory.  Von  Salzinger  accepted  it  in  a 
silence  which  was  the  effect  of  his  superior's  example. 
And,  still  following  that  example,  he  read  it  through  with 
the  closest  attention.  Meanwhile  Von  Berger's  dispas- 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  285 

sionate  gaze  was  turned  upon  the  brilliant  sunlight  pour- 
ing in  through  the  wide  and  lofty  window,  which  opened 
out  upon  a  vista  of  parkland  and  rolling  grass. 

It  was  a  written  report  from  Johann  Stryj,  and  it  had 
been  delivered  that  morning  by  hand. 

"  By  the  time  this  report  reaches  your  Excellency  the 
completion  of  our  plans  of  destruction  will  have  been 
reached.  They  will  have  been  put  into  operation.  The 
drawing  office,  where  all  plans  and  designs  are  locked  in 
a  strong-room,  has  been  a  simple  enough  matter  to  ar- 
range. One  of  our  agents  works  in  that  department. 
The  development  there  is  timed  for  6  A.  M.  on  the  morn- 
ing you  will  receive  this.  It  is  certain — certain  as  any- 
thing human  can  be. 

"With  regard  to  the  docks  and  slipways  there  has 
been  greater  difficulty,  infinitely  more  so,  since  these  are 
under  direct  official  control.  However,  we  have  seven 
agents  amongst  the  operatives,  and  three  of  our  different 
points  of  attack  are  under  the  immediate  foremanship  of 
Heuferman  himself,  upon  whom  I  wish  to  report  most 
favorably.  The  explosions  here  are  to  be  synchronized 
with  the  others. 

"  In  the  case  of  the  other  matter  I  have  a  less  satisfac- 
tory report  to  make.  Our  man  certainly  landed  some- 
where on  the  coast  in  this  region.  He  was  certainly 
traced  to  one  night's  shelter  at  a  certain  house,  of  whose 
identity  your  Excellency  is  aware.  The  house  was  pene- 
trated and  searched,  but  the  man  had  taken  his  depar- 
ture. There  is  a  possibility  he  has  made  his  way  to  Lon- 
don, and  our  agents  there  are  using  every  endeavor  to 
trace  him.  I  have  as  yet  received  no  report  from  them. 
My  own  impression,  not  based  upon  evidence,  is  that  he 
is  concealed  in  our  own  neighborhood.  If  this  be  so  I 
hope  later  to  have  a  good  report  to  make  on  the  matter 
to  your  Excellency. 

"  The  movements  of  the  Englishmen  are  simple  to  fol- 


286  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

low.  They  are  both  closely  watched.  The  elder  remains 
here  attendant  upon  the  work  of  construction.  He  is  in 
our  hands  at  any  moment,  at  your  Excellency's  com- 
mands. The  younger,  too,  can  be  dealt  with  effectually. 
He  passes  frequently  between  here  and  London,  and  at 
both  ends,  and  on  the  journey,  he  is  closely  observed.  It 
has  now  been  ascertained  that  he  is  working  with  Scot- 
land Yard  in  the  interests  of  the  woman.  But  on  the  re- 
sult of  this  combination  I  have  instructed  the  man  on  the 
spot  to  report  himself  directly  to  your  Excellency,  in  ac- 
cordance with  your  orders.  I  understand,  however,  and 
would  call  your  Excellency's  attention — most  earnest  at- 
tention— to  the  matter  that  three  of  our  men  in  that  neigh- 
borhood are  closely  shadowed  by  men  from  Scotland 
Yard.  Consequently  their  services  are  denied  us.  These 
men  can  be  relied  on,  of  course,  to  give  no  information, 
but  it  points  the  energy  behind  the  search  for  the  woman 
and  the  direction  of  the  suspicions  aroused. 

"  My  next  report  to  your  Excellency  I  hope  will  be  on 
the  result  of  our  endeavors  here. 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  K  I." 


Von  Salzinger  raised  his  eyes  from  the  paper.  They 
encountered  the  profile  of  the  Prince.  He  regarded  it 
for  some  moments  without  friendliness.  Then  he  changed 
his  expression  to  one  of  official  cordiality. 

"  Stryj  is  a  capable  man,"  he  hazarded. 

The  reply  came  without  a  change  in  the  direction  of 
the  Prince's  gaze. 

"  He  seems  successful  in  the  things  of  lesser  impor- 
tance. Von  Hertzwohl  has  slipped  through  his  fingers. 
He  may  be  capable.  We  shall  see.  But  we  want  the 
— body — of  Von  Hertzwohl.  This  man  has  made  no  at- 
tempt to  communicate  with  his  daughter — yet.  Do  you 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  287 

know  what  that  means  ?  I  doubt  if  you  do.  It  means 
that  your  first  visit  to  her  alarmed  them.  It  warned  the 
Prince,  through  this  man  Farlow,  that  there  was  danger. 
You,  with  your  attempt  at  liaison,  are  responsible  for  that. 
Perhaps  that  will  appeal  to  your — imagination.  Herr  von 
Salzinger,  you  have  made  two  mistakes.  The. second  is 
more  serious  than  the  first.  If  we  do  not  secure  the  per- 
son of  this  man  you  will  be  recalled  to  Germany." 

The  calmness  with  which  he  spoke  robbed  his  words  of 
none  of  their  significance.  With  his  final  pronouncement 
his  cold  eyes  were  turned  full  upon  his  companion,  search- 
ing his  gross  face  with  a  glance  of  inflexible  resolve. 

Von  Salzinger's  spirit  was  tame.  But  the  lash  and  un- 
just condemnation  goaded  him. 

"Discipline  must  be  observed,  Excellency,"  he  said, 
with  a  thickness  which  warned  the  other  of  the  effect  of 
his  words.  "  If  I  am  recalled,  then  I  must  obey.  But  it 
is  the  authority  in  Berlin  which  is  to  blame  for  his  escape. 
I  came  here  to  track  this  other,  Farlow,  and  the  work  at 
his  yards.  Von  Hertzwohl  was  still  in  the  Baltic  when  I 
visited  the  Princess.  There  was  no  suggestion  at  the 
time  that  the  Berlin  authority  would  be  sufficiently  blun- 
dering to  permit  his  escape.  It  would  be  more  just  to 
find  the  scapegoat  amongst  those  who  were  responsible 
in  Berlin.  I  submit  that  this  matter  was  in  your  depart- 
ment, Excellency,  of  which  you  are  the  sole  head." 

Von  Berger's  reply  came  with  a  flicker  of  the  eyelids. 

"  Those  who  are  responsible  for  acts  which  jeopardize 
the  ends  of  the  Fatherland  will  reap  the  consequent  pun- 
ishment— whoever  they  be.  No  distinction  will  be  made. 
That  is  the  discipline  of  our  country,  Herr  von  Salzinger." 
Then  he  pointed  to  a  chair. 


288  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  other  accepted  the  silent  order.  But  it  was  with 
an  ill  grace.  Von  Salzinger,  for  all  his  discipline,  was  no 
weakling.  At  that  moment  he  was  ready  to  rebel  against 
the  iron  rod  which  Von  Berger  wielded.  It  would  have 
required  but  one  more  sting  to  set  the  man's  headstrong 
passions  loose,  whatever,  in  the  end,  it  might  have  cost 
him. 

But  the  Prince  was  alive  to  the  danger  signal.  His 
understanding  of  human  nature  was  something  more 
than  a  study — it  was  an  instinct.  A  secret  purpose  lay 
behind  his  charge.  The  value  of  the  terror  of  authority 
upon  a  Prussian  subject  was  well  understood  by  him, 
and  none  knew  better  than  he  that  rank  and  position 
afforded  no  emancipation  from  its  peculiar  claims.  The 
danger  signal,  however,  warned  him  that  in  the  present 
case  he  was  dealing  with  a  man  of  hot  passion  and  phys- 
ical bravery.  To  gain  full  effect  for  his  charge  he 
must  not  jeopardize  his  purpose  by  risking  an  outbreak 
of  passion.  The  effect  would  come  after  Von  Salz- 
inger's  private  reflection  through  the  inborn  discipline 
that  was  his. 

The  two  men  sat  facing  each  other.  The  truculent  re- 
gard of  Von  Salzinger  would  not  be  denied.  But  Von 
Berger  gave  no  sign.  He  was  entirely  master  of  him- 
self as  always,  just  as  he  knew  he  was  master  of  the 
position  at  the  moment,  and  of  this  man. 

"  That  which  has  happened  to  us  is  a  greater  disaster 
than  the  defeat  of  our  armies  could  have  been,"  he  said 
slowly.  "  You,  as  well  as  everybody  else,  must  realize 
this.  If  you  do  not  you  must  be  made  to.  That  is  why 
I  have  talked  plainly.  That  is  why  you  have  indiscreetly 
permitted  your  anger  to  get  the  better  of  you.  Now  you 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  289 

must  listen  to  me  while  I  show  you  how  we  can  achieve 
that  which  Berlin  has  failed  to  do,  and  which  this  man 
Stryj  has  failed  to  do.  I  mean  lay  our  hands  upon 
Prince  von  Hertzwohl.  The  woman  up-stairs  has  been 
condemned  to  death." 

"  To— death  ?  " 

The  square  figure  of  Von  Salzinger  was  erect,  and  his 
eyes  were  alight  with  a  horror  unusual  to  him.  Then  his 
feelings  subsided  under  incredulity.  "  But  that  is  a  threat 
— merely." 

Von  Berger  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  a  reality.  She  will  die,  if  we  do  not  get  her 
father.  It  is  part  of  my  plan  for  trapping  him.  The 
news  of  her  death  will  be  whispered  through  certain 
channels  which  we  know  will  convey  it  to  him — wher- 
ever he  be.  Listen,  this  is  the  plan,  and  this  is  the  work 
which  will  be  assigned  to  you." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  Prince  rose  from  his  chair  and 
crossed  to  the  window.  He  stood  with  his  back  towards 
his  companion.  He  had  talked  long  and  earnestly  in 
his  cold,  even  voice.  Now  he  waited. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  at  last  without  looking  round  at  the 
still  recumbent  figure  behind  him.  "That  is  the  duty 
allotted  to  you.  You  accept  the  position  ?  " 

For  answer  Von  Salzinger  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  face 
was  purple  with  shame.  The  diabolical  nature  of  the 
plan  had  sunk  deeply  into  the  half-savage  heart  of  the 
man  and  found  some  small  grains  of  genuine  manhood 
there.  Even  he  was  revolted,  and  the  habit  of  discipline 
tottered  and  crumpled. 

"  No  !  By  God,  no ! "  he  cried,  with  a  savage  clenching 
of  the  fists. 


2QO  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Von  Berger  remained  gazing  out  at  the  autumn  scene. 

"  Think  again." 

But  no  answer  was  forthcoming.  Von  Salzinger's  atti- 
tude remained,  only  now  it  seemed  as  if  his  clenching  fists 
were  a  threat  to  the  man  at  the  window. 

"  Think  again,  Herr  von  Salzinger.  Berlin  gives  no 
second  chance." 

The  frigidity  of  the  words  became  a  threat  that  was  in- 
supportable. Von  Salzinger  was  a  Prussian.  Self-pres- 
ervation counted  with  him  before  all  things.  He  saw 
every  hope  that  had  ever  been  his  slipping  from  his 
tenacious  grasp.  To  refuse — to  refuse.  He  knew  all  it 
meant.  He  must  accept  or — kill  this  man. 

His  clenching  fists  relaxed. 

"  Very  good,  Excellency.  If  those  are  my  orders  I 
must  execute  them." 

"  Those  are  your  orders." 

Von  Berger  had  turned  about,  and  Von  Salzinger  be- 
held that  terrible  gleam  in  his  eyes  which  Vita  had  once 
so  painfully  witnessed. 

Von  Salzinger  spent  a  bad  evening  with  himself,  and  a 
worse  night. 

Curiously  enough  this  man  regarded  himself  as  not 
only  a  man  of  honor,  but  chivalrous  towards  women. 
How  he  arrived  at  the  latter  conclusion  was  one  of  those 
miracles  of  psychology  which  are  beyond  the  under- 
standing of  the  human  mind.  To  him  woman  was 
weaker  than  the  man  whose  plaything  she  was  set  on 
earth  to  become.  Man's  will  must  be  her  law.  She 
possessed  no  rights  of  her  own.  Man's  strength  to  en- 
force his  will  on  all  weaker  vessels  was  the  only  right  he 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  291 

could  understand.  Then  woman,  in  the  nature  of  things, 
must  be  intended  as  his  plaything. 

But  Von  Salzinger  drew  the  line  hard  and  fast  at  the 
limits  of  this  understanding.  Woman  must  be  protected 
from  physical  harm  and  discomfort  by  the  man  whose 
plaything  she  became.  As  soon  would  he  deem  it  right 
to  treat  ill  any  other  of  those  things  in  life  which  gave 
him  pleasure.  As  soon  would  he  expect  to  see  a  child 
tear  and  rend  its  favorite  toy.  Woman  must  be  cared 
for,  woman  must  be  sheltered  from  the  buffets  of  life  out- 
side her  own  little  life.  She  must  be  indulged  in  the 
feminine  luxuries  and  pastimes.  Any  other  course  he 
believed  would  be  an  exhibition  of  brutality  by  no  means 
in  keeping  with  the  boasted  Kultur  of  his  people.  The 
moral  and  spiritual  side  of  the  woman  was  something 
which  failed  entirely  to  enter  into  his  comprehension. 
In  the  moral  and  spiritual  side  of  life  she  had  no  place — 
no  place  whatever. 

The  plan  of  Von  Berger,  and  the  cruel  nature  of  the 
work  assigned  to  him,  had  outraged  all  his  ideas  of  his 
peculiar  form  of  chivalry.  To  condemn  Vita  to  death, 
and  wilfully  carry  out  the  sentence,  failing  the  success 
of  their  plans,  was  an  unthinkable  and  useless  cruelty 
which  he  felt  he  could  not  take  part  in.  Brutality  had 
here  exceeded  itself. 

So  he  endured  a  painful  and  troubled  night  as  he  re- 
volved in  his  mind  the  diabolical  scheme  which  Von  Berger 
had  unfolded  to  him. 

He  contemplated  disobedience.  Yes,  he  contemplated 
defying  the  terrible  power  which  Von  Berger  wielded  so 
ruthlessly.  But  the  consequence  of  such  defiance  left 
him  panic-stricken,  albeit  unconvinced.  He  searched 


292  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

for  a  way  out.  But  every  mode  of  egress  seemed  barred 

to  him.  Every  one  except She  was  so  very,  very 

beautiful. 

A  tempting  thought  possessed  him,  and  surged  through 
the  thickly  flowing  channels  of  the  animal  in  him.  The 
temptation  grew  and  grew,  and,  with  each  passing  hour, 
it  more  surely  took  possession  of  all  that  was  most  obsti- 
nate in  him.  He  was  yielding  to  it.  He  knew.  He 
left  Von  Berger  out  of  his  calculations,  he  left  all  thoughts 
of  the  purposes  of  his  Government  out  and  thought  only 
of  himself,  and  this  new  temptation  which  dangled  before 
his  greedy  eyes.  Should  he  yield  to  the  temptation  ? 

His  mind  went  back  again  of  a  sudden  to  the  man, 
Von  Berger,  whom  he  knew  he  hated  as  much  as  he 
feared.  It  seemed  so  hopeless  to  oppose  him,  hopeless 
to  oppose  Berlin.  Yet  he  felt  he  ought  to.  Then  his 
thoughts  flew  again  to  Vita,  and  conjured  visions  of  her 
perfect  charms — and  so  he  fell  asleep. 

Vita's  days  and  nights  had  become  one  long  night- 
mare of  terror.  The  terror  for  herself  had  undermined 
all  her  confidence  for  her  father,  and  in  her  lover's  ability 
to  succor.  The  hours  of  racking  thought  since  learning 
the  fate  awaiting  herself  left  her  beautiful  face  drawn, 
and  her  spirit  bowed  and  crushed.  There  was  no  hope 
anywhere. 

From  the  moment  she  had  first  recognized  Frederick 
von  Berger,  a  dreary  hopelessness  had  set  in,  and  now 
she  knew  that  her  worst  apprehensions  were  to  be  more 
than  fulfilled.  She  knew  something  of  the  machiney  he 
controlled,  and  she  knew  how  hopeless  it  was  that  Rux- 
ton,  with  all  his  manhood  and  confidence,  could  ever 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  293 

hope  to  contend  with  it  and  defeat  it.  Her  father,  she 
knew,  would  be  hunted  down  and — punished.  While 
she — she  must  inevitably  fall  a  victim  of  the  sentence 
passed  upon  her  here  in  this  desolate,  secret  prison. 

The  torture  she  endured  was  insupportable.  Every 
moment  of  the  day  she  was  watched  either  by  the  hard- 
faced  matron  of  the  place,  or  by  her  own  maid,  Francella. 
She  had  railed  at  the  latter  for  her  cruel  perfidy,  she  had 
appealed  to  the  former.  But  in  neither  case  had  she 
elicited  the  smallest  spark  of  sympathy. 

The  matron  had  merely  shrugged  her  broad  shoulders. 

"  You  would  sell  our  Fatherland  to  an  enemy.  You 
are  not  fit  to  live,"  she  had  said,  with  a  coldness  which 
none  can  display  more  effectively  than  a  woman. 

In  Francella  she  met  only  the  heartless  cruelty  of  a 
servant  who  finds  it  in  her  power  to  rend  a  late  mistress. 

"  Some  day  I  take  my  children  to  the  grave  of  the 
woman  who  would  have  betrayed  our  country,  and  I 
make  them  spit  upon  it." 

So  Vita  was  left  to  nurse  her  terror  in  the  awful  soli- 
tude and  silence  of  the  splendid  halls  of  this  isolated 
mansion. 

How  long  she  might  have  borne  it  and  retained  sanity 
is  doubtful.  It  surely  could  not  have  been  long.  With 
the  smallest  gleam  of  sympathy  it  might  have  been  pos- 
sible to  endure.  But  there  was  no  sympathy.  The 
gloom  of  her  outlook  from  her  windows,  the  awesome 
grandeur  of  her  rooms,  the  cold  antagonism  of  those  who 
waited  upon  her  as  prison  warders, — all  these  things 
aggravated  her  trouble,  just  as  they  were  calculated  to 
aggravate. 

Then  in  the  very  depths  of  her  despairing  misery  there 


294  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

suddenly  shone  out  a  vague,  flickering  light  of  hope.  It 
was  no  less  than  a  stealthy  and  secret  visit  from  Lud- 
wig  von  Salzinger.  It  came  in  the  night.  Vita  had 
abandoned  sleeping  at  night  fearing  lest  the  murder 
would  be  committed  during  the  hours  of  darkness.  She 
had  allowed  her  imagination  to  run  riot  till  she  almost 
came  to  fear  her  own  shadow. 

She  was  sitting  in  an  upright  chair.  She  was  gazing 
straight  before  her  with  eyes  staring  upon  the  door. 
Such  was  her  terror  of  the  night  that  she  had  been 
reduced  to  this  impotent  watching.  Her  thought  was 
teeming,  going  over  and  over  again  every  horrible  fancy 
a  distorted  brain  could  conjure.  Then  suddenly,  in  the 
midst  of  it  all,  she  started.  Her  straining  eyes  dilated. 
She  leapt  from  her  seat  and  sprang  behind  her  chair, 
grasping  its  back,  prepared  to  defend  herself.  The  door 
was  slowly  and  silently  opening. 

Widely  ajar  it  stopped.  The  next  instant  a  head  was 
thrust  round  it,  a  square  head  with  a  shock  of  close-cut 
hair.  The  woman  breathed  a  sigh,  but  remained  ready 
to  defend  herself.  She  had  recognized  Ludwig  von  Salz- 
inger. 

The  man  recognized  her  attitude,  and  signed  to  her 
to  remain  silent.  His  warning  had  instant  effect.  Vita 
drew  another  sigh,  and  her  grip  upon  the  chair-back  re- 
laxed. With  eyes  wide  with  doubt  and  fear  she  watched 
the  man's  movements.  They  were  stealthy  and  secret. 

He  thrust  the  door  further  open.  Quickly  and  silently 
he  stepped  into  the  room.  Then,  with  the  door  still  ajar, 
he  gazed  back  cautiously  down  the  corridor  beyond, 
in  both  directions.  Having  satisfied  himself  he  closed 
the  door  with  the  greatest  care  and  came  towards  her. 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  295 

"  If  you  speak,"  he  whispered,  "  don't  raise  your  voice, 
or — we  shall  be  overheard." 

"What  have  you  come  for?"  demanded  Vita,  never- 
theless obedient  to  his  caution. 

The  man's  brows  went  up  and  his  eyes  were  urgent. 

"  Why,  to  get  you  out  of  this,"  he  said  quickly.  "  Do 
you  think  I  can  stand  by  while  that  devil  Von  Bergerdoes 
you,  a  woman,  to  death  ?  You,  the  woman  I  love — have 
always  loved  ?  God  1  I  hate  that  man,"  he  added,  and 
an  unmistakable  ring  of  truth  sounded  in  his  final  words. 
"  Look  here,  Vita,  I'm  part  of  this  diabolical  machinery,  I 
know  ;  I  can't  help  it ;  but  to  submit  to  the  murder  of  a 
woman — you — God  !  I  can't  do  it — if  it  costs  me  my  own 
life.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  you'll  think.  You  know  the 
discipline.  You  know  that  I  was  forced  into  assisting  in 
bringing  you  here,  under  orders  I  dared  not  disobey.  I 
know  all  that,  and  you  must  think  of  me  as  you  will,  but 
I  love  you — madly — and  I'll  not  consent  to  anything  that 
threatens  your  life.  I  tell  you,  I've  done  with  it  all — all — 
our  country.  I'm  going  to  get  out  of  it  all  and  flee  to 
America,  and — take  you  with  me.  You'll  come  with  me? 
Say  you'll  come  with  me,  and  together  we'll  outwit  this 
devil  of  a  man.  You've  done  nothing,  nothing  on  earth 
to  warrant  the  punishment  he's  preparing  for  you.  Your 
father — that's  different.  But  you — you — oh,  it's  horrible. 
Ach  !  I  could  kill  that  man  when  I  think  of  it,  and  all  he 
has  said  to  me  yesterday  of  his  devil's  plans." 

While  he  was  speaking  it  seemed  to  Vita  that  it  must 
be  some  angel  talking  disguised  in  the  angular,  hard 
exterior  of  this  Prussian.  Every  nerve  in  her  body  which 
had  been  so  straining  seemed  suddenly  to  have  relaxed. 
It  seemed  as  though  years  of  suffering  had  been  suddenly 


296  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

lifted  from  her  poor  tortured  brain.  She  recalled  how 
from  the  beginning  she  had  thought  that  if  hope  there 
were  for  her  it  must  lie  in  this  very  Von  Salzinger  who 
had  been  disgraced  through  her  father's  and  her  agency. 
She  gazed  upon  him  now  in  wonder,  and  was  half  in- 
clined to  weep  with  gratitude  and  relief. 

But  she  restrained  herself.  And  quite  suddenly  she  re- 
membered something  else.  She  remembered  the  man 
who  claimed  her  love,  and  she  remembered  the  love  this 
man  was  now  offering  her.  The  relief  of  the  moment 
changed  to  doubt,  and,  finally,  to  a  renewed  despair. 

There  was  only  one  course  open  to  her,  and  she 
adopted  it  frankly  and  without  restraint.  She  shook  her 
head. 

"  I — honor  you  for  the  sacrifice  you  would  make,  but 
I'm  afraid  it's  useless.  Besides,  I  feel  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  defeat  these  people.  I  must  tell  you,  and  by 
doing  so  I  may  lose  forever  your  good-will.  I  do  not 
love  you.  All  the  love  I  have  to  give  has  passed  from  my 
keeping " 

"  Ruxton  Farlow."  There  was  a  sharp,  brutal  ruthless- 
ness  in  the  manner  in  which  Von  Salzinger  broke  in. 

Vita  shrank  at  the  tone. 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  love  Ruxton  Farlow,  and  have 
pledged  myself  to  be  his  wife." 

"  Wife  ?  "  There  was  a  smile  in  the  man's  eyes  which 
did  not  conceal  his  jealous  passion.  "  What  chance  have 
you  of  becoming  his  wife  ?  None.  There  is  only  one 
chance — your  escape  from  here.  Your  escape  from  here 
can  only  be  contrived  by  me.  Am  I — I  going  to  risk  my 
life,  and  all  my  future,  to  hand  over  the  woman  I  love  to 
— Ruxton  Farlow  ?  Vita,  I  am  only  a  man — a  mere 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  297 

human  man.  I  will  risk  all  for  you.  I  will  dare  even  the 
vengeance  of  Von  Berger  if  you  but  promise  me.  But  no 
power  on  earth  can  make  me  stir  a  hand  to  deliver  up  all 
I  care  for  in  the  world  to — Ruxton  Farlow." 

The  frank,  ruthless  honesty  of  the  man's  denial  was  not 
without  its  appeal  to  Vita.  She  even  smiled  a  faint,  gentle 
smile. 

"  It  is  as  I  said — useless.  It  is  only  as  I  could  have  ex- 
pected. I  could  not  hope  it  would  be  otherwise.  I  love 
Ruxton  Farlow." 

"  Whom  you  can  never  hope  to  see  again."  Again 
came  that  savage  crudeness  of  method  which  Vita  rec- 
ognized as  part  of  the  man.  Then  his  eyes  lit  with  a 
deep,  primitive  passion.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  must  seem  brutal,  a 
devil,  like  that  Von  Berger.  Maybe  I  am,  but  I  can  see 
plain  sense.  In  less  than  a  week  you  will  die  here,  mur- 
dered. How,  I  can  only  guess  at.  Von  Berger  knows 
no  mercy.  Your  father  is  surrounded  at  Dorby,  and  will 
suffer  a  similar  fate.  All  your  plans  and  schemes  will  be 
frustrated.  The  works  at  Dorby  are  even  now  destroyed. 
There  is  no  power  on  earth  that  can  give  you  to  this  man 
you  say  you  love.  Well  ?  Is  not  life  still  sweet  to  you  ? 
Is  not  your  father's  escape  also  something  to  you  ?  I  tell 
you  I  can  contrive  these  things.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will 
marry  me.  Your  solemn  pledge.  I  love  you,  and  will 
teach  you  to  love  me  and  forget  this  Englishman.  It  is 
madness  to  refuse.  It  is  your  one  single  chance  of  life, 
and  you  would  fling  it  away  for  a  shadow,  a  dream  which 
can  never  be  realized." 

There  was  something  in  the  man's  manner  which  ap- 
pealed to  Vita.  Perhaps  it  was  the  rugged  brutality  of 
his  force.  The  repugnance  in  which  she  had  held  him 


298  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

had  lessened.  To  her  his  genuineness  was  unmistakable. 
And  he  was  honest  enough  to  make  no  claim  to  gener- 
osity in  the  course  he  was  prepared  to  adopt  at  her  bid- 
ding. 

Von  Salzinger  saw  something  of  the  effect  he  had 
achieved  upon  her  and  resolutely  thrust  home  the  advan- 
tage. 

"  Vita,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice  still  more,  but  los- 
ing nothing  of  the  urgency  of  his  manner,  "  I  have  a  plan 
whereby  I  can  save  you  both — your  father  and  you. 
Think  of  him,  that  great,  but  misguided  man,  who  has 
lavished  a  world  of  affection  upon  you,  and  to  whom  you 
are  more  than  devoted.  Can  you  let  him  die?  Think 
how  he  will  die  under  Von  Berger's  hands.  I  tell  you,  Vita, 
better  endure  the  agony  of  death  at  the  hands  of  a  com- 
mon murderer  a  hundred  times  than  be  left  at  the  mercy 
of  that  man.  Even  the  torture  of  the  old  Inquisition 
might  be  preferable.  He  has  neither  soul  nor  conscience. 
And  what  does  it  mean  to  achieve  this  safety  for  you 
both  ?  It  means  the  sacrifice  of  your  love  for  this  Eng- 
lishman. God  !  Is  it  so  great  a  sacrifice  when  it  can 
never  be  fulfilled  ?  A  passing  dream  which  must  end  in 
the  tragedy  of  your  murder.  You  say  you  have  no  love. 
I  ask  for  none.  That  will  come.  I  will  teach  you  a  love 
which  this  Englishman  could  never  have  inspired.  And 
I  can  give  you  back  your  life,  and  your  father's  life,  in  the 
great  country  across  the  Atlantic.  Every  detail  of  my 
plans  are  complete,  but  it  must  be  now  or  never.  Do  you 
still  refuse  ?  Do  you  still  desire  to  sacrifice  your  father  to 
this  selfish  dream  which  can  never  be  fulfilled  ?  " 

The  woman's  eyes  were  yearning.  A  great  struggle 
looked  out  of  their  grey  depths  into  the  passion-lit  eyes 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  299 

of  the  man.  The  hope,  oh,  the  hope  of  it  all !  But  the 
price  was  the  price  of  all  that  a  woman  looks  forward  to 
in  life. 

"  Do  you  swear  to  me  that  my  father  shall  be  saved  ?  " 
she  demanded,  in  a  low  tone  which  thrilled  to  jubilance 
every  sense  in  the  man's  body. 

He  flung  out  his  arms. 

"He  shall  leave  this  country  with  you.  The  fulfill- 
ment of  your  solemn  word  shall  not  be  required  of  you 
till  you  are  both  safe  across  the  water.  If  we  fail — then 
you  have  sacrificed  nothing.  Can  I  say  fairer?  Can 
you  doubt  my  honesty  of  purpose  after  that?  Ach !  it 
maddens  me  with  alarm  and  impatience  to  see  you 
hesitate.  For  you  it  is  safety — life.  For  me  I  risk  all 
— everything — for  a  wife  who  has  no  love  to  give  me. 
If  I  fail  your  present  lot  is  nothing  to  what  mine  will  be. 
If  I  hate  Von  Berger  he  has  no  love  for  me,  and — he  is 
not  human." 

But  still  Vita  hesitated.  It  was  not  that  she  doubted 
this  man,  though  she  knew  she  had  little  enough  reason 
to  trust  him.  It  was  the  love  for  the  man  of  her  choice 
holding  and  claiming  her.  She  strove  to  set  it  aside. 
She  tried  to  apply  reason.  But  it  would  not  be  denied, 
and  it  elbowed  reason  at  every  turn. 

What  was  life  without  this  love  of  hers  ?  No,  it  was 
nothing.  Would  it  matter  if  death  came  upon  her 
and  left  her  cold  ?  No.  It  would  even  be  preferable  to 
the  life  of  terrible  regret  which  Von  Salzinger  offered  her. 
Her  father — she  caught  her  breath.  It  was  the  one 
thought  which  her  love  could  not  thrust  aside.  It  was 
in  her  power  to  save  him — if  she  would. 

The  struggle  went  on.     It  shone  in  her  eyes,  it  was 


300  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

displayed  in  the  panting  rise  and  fall  of  her  bosom.  The 
appeal  of  it  was  too  great.  To  leave  him  to  his  fate 
would  be  the  vilest  selfishness.  This  man  had  promised 
that  he  should  leave  the  country  with  them — before  she 
became  his  wife. 

She  looked  up.  A  burning  excitement  shone  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Can  you  communicate  with  my  father  ?  "  she  asked. 

The  man  shook  his  head. 

"  Then  how  can  you — save  him  ?  "  she  demanded 
sharply.  "  I  do  not  know  where  he  is,  and  if  I  did  wild 
horses  would  not  drag  his  whereabouts  from  me — even 
for  the  purpose  of  saving  his  life." 

But  her  words  did  not  offend. 

"You  do  not  trust  me,"  returned  the  man,  with  a 
tolerant  shake  of  the  head.  "  I  cannot  blame  you  either. 
I  must  prove  my  sincerity — later.  Meanwhile  the  matter 
is  simple  enough.  Give  me  your  solemn  pledge  that  you 
will  become  my  wife  as  soon  as  we  safely  land  across  the 
water,  you,  your  father  and  me.  Then  I  will  show  you." 

For  another  few  silent  moments  the  struggle  in  Vita's 
heart  went  on.  Now  it  was  a  struggle  of  doubt  and 
credulity.  All  other  feeling  had  yielded  in  that  earlier 
struggle.  Dare  she  trust  this  man  ?  Dare  she  ?  But 
he  was  asking  nothing  until  their  safety  had  been  assured. 
His  seemed  the  greater  risk,  unless  this  were  some  dia- 
bolical plot  with  his  superior,  Von  Berger.  She  could 
not  reason  it  out.  Reason  was  beyond  her.  Her  fa- 
ther's safety  lay  in  the  balance.  She  forgot  self  for  the 
time.  So  she  thrust  her  finger  upon  the  scale. 

"  I  solemnly  pledge  myself  under  the  conditions  you 
name,"  she  said  in  low  tones. 


A  MEANS  OF  ESCAPE  301 

The  joy  in  the  man's  hard  eyes  was  unmistakable,  and 
Vita,  witnessing  it,  understood  that  it  was  real,  genuine. 

"  Then  listen,"  he  cried.  "  Communication  with  your 
father  will  be  simple  and  safe.  We  do  not  need  his 
whereabouts.  I  will  dictate  a  letter  to  you — a  letter  of 
our  plans  and  instructions.  We  will  beat  Von  Berger 
at  his  own  game,  and  once  we  are  in  America  we  can 
snap  our  fingers  at  the  whole  race.  I  will  tell  you  now 
Von  Berger  threatened  me  yesterday  again.  He  it  was 
who  deprived  me  of  my  command  at  Borga.  He  it  was 
who  superseded  me  over  here.  He  it  is  who  has  given 
me  the  life  of  a  cur  ever  since.  Now  I  shall  pay  him  in 
a  way  he  little  suspects.  I  will  dictate  this  letter  for  you, 
Vita,  and  when  it  is  written  you  will  address  it  to  your 
father  and  enclose  it  under  cover  to  Sir  Andrew  Farlow 
at  Dorby  Towers.  He  will  see  that  it  reaches  your  fa- 
ther. You  will  see  how  sure  is  my  plan.  No  matter  into 
whose  hands  that  letter  falls  it  cannot  betray  his  where- 
abouts to  any  one." 

And  Vita  was  finally  convinced.  She  was  making  her 
sacrifice  for  the  life  and  liberty  of  her  father,  and  through 
all  the  pains  and  hopelessness  of  yielding  up  her  love  for 
Ruxton  she  had  the  wholly  inadequate  assurance  that, 
whatever  it  cost  her,  it  was  her  simple  duty  for  which  even 
Ruxton  himself  would  never  blame  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


A  SMALL  group  of  people  stood  surveying  the  wreck 
of  one  of  the  great  construction  docks  in  the  Dorby 
yards.  Prominent  among  them  were  Sir  Andrew  Farlow 
and  his  son.  They  were  standing  beside  a  naval  officer 
of  considerable  rank.  A  number  of  naval  uniforms  stood 
out  from  the  rest  of  the  civilians ;  but  these  were  of  lesser 
degree. 

The  sky  was  heavily  overcast.  A  light,  penetrating 
drizzle  of  rain  was  falling.  Somehow  these  things  seemed 
to  add  to  the  sense  of  destruction  prevailing. 

The  corrugated  iron  roof — thousands  of  square  feet  of 
it — was  lying  tumbled  and  torn  upon  a  tangle  of  fallen 
steel  girders.  Great  slabs  of  ferro-concrete  walls  loomed 
grey  amidst  the  chaos.  Steel  stanchions  of  great  height 
and  strength,  used  to  support  the  roofing,  lay  about,  bent 
or  broken,  like  so  much  lead  piping.  The  mass  of  wreck- 
age was  stupendous,  and  through  it  all,  and  beyond  it, 
towards  the  water's  edge,  the  rigid  steel  ribs  of  twin 
vessels  stood  up  defiantly,  as  though  indifferent  to  the 
fierce  upheaval  which  had  wrecked  their  cradles. 

Ruxton  pointed  at  the  latter. 

"  They've  wrecked  everything  but  what  they  set  out  to 
wreck." 

He  had  voiced  a  general  thought.  There  was  no 
answer  to  his  comment.  The  naval  commander  dis- 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  303 

played  his  feelings  in  the  almost  childlike  regret  in  his 
eyes.  The  wrecking  of  anything  in  the  shape  of  sea 
craft  smote  him  to  the  heart.  It  was  no  question  of 
values  to  him.  The  sea  and  all  that  belonged  to  it  were 
the  precious  things  of  life  to  him.  Sir  Andrew  frowned 
down  upon  the  scene.  His  strong  Yorkshire  features 
were  sternly  set. 

"  It  means  two  weeks'  delay.  That  is  all."  Sir  An- 
drew's words  were  the  outcome  of  his  resolve. 

"  All  of  that,"  said  the  commander.  "  It's  curious," 
he  reflected.  "  It  suggests  inexperience  or — great  hurry. 
What  of  the  offices  ?  " 

"You  mean  the  drawing  office?"  Sir  Andrew's  lips 
set  grimly  as  he  glanced  in  Ruxton's  direction. 

"  Burnt  to  a  cinder  and  scattered  to  the  four  winds." 
Ruxton  emitted  a  sound  like  a  laugh  deprived  of  all  mirth. 

"  The  drawings  ?  "  The  commander's  eyes  were  gravely 
enquiring. 

"  Not  a  drawing  or  tracing  saved.  Not  a  single  work- 
ing plan.  Complete.  Oh,  yes,  complete.  But " 

"  But  ?  "    The  concern  had  deepened  in  the  officer's  eyes. 

Ruxton  shrugged. 

"  We  have  duplicates  and  triplicates  of  everything, 
besides  the  originals.  They  must  take  us  for  babes  or — 
imbeciles." 

The  officer  was  relieved.     He  even  smiled. 

"A  good  many  do  that.  Well,  they  have  told  us 
their  intentions  pretty  plainly.  They'll  get  no  second 
opportunity  unless  they've  a  staff  of  miracle  workers. 
Shall  you  be  present  at  the  enquiry  this  afternoon, 
Sir  Andrew  ?  " 

Sir  Andrew  signified  assent.     Then  he  asked : 


304  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  What  about  the  inquest?" 

"  To-morrow  morning,"  one  of  his  own  staff  informed 
him. 

"  Four  deaths.  Seven  injured."  It  was  the  officer 
again  who  spoke.  "  Two  of  them  my  men.  The  others 
operatives.  One  of  the  injured  is  believed  to  be  a  for- 
eigner. If  he  is  fit  to  give  evidence  it  may  be  interesting." 

The  talk  ceased.  There  was  nothing  more  to  be  said. 
The  wrecking  was  complete.  No  further  talk  could  serve 
them. 

Presently  Sir  Andrew  moved  away.  His  resentment 
outweighed  his  regrets.  Ruxton  followed  him.  He  dis- 
played no  emotion  at  the  ruin  which  had  been  caused. 
The  loss  of  life  he  endeavored  to  thrust  out  of  his  mind. 
Nor  was  it  difficult,  for,  in  spite  of  the  seriousness  of  the 
calamity,  it  was  incomparable  with  the  calamity  which 
had  come  near  to  breaking  his  heart. 

The  officer  remained  where  he  was.  His  duty  lay 
there  in  the  work  under  his  guardianship.  He  knew 
well  enough  he  was  not  likely  to  escape  the  official 
verdict  of  "  slackness." 

Ruxton  followed  his  father  into  the  waiting  car.  In  a 
moment  they  were  threading  their  way  through  a  laby- 
rinth of  unkempt  buildings,  all  of  which  concealed  a 
teeming  activity  and  laboring  life.  The  lanes  were  nar- 
row, winding  and  unpaved.  The  car  was  forever  cross- 
ing and  recrossing  the  metal  track  of  a  light  railway 
amongst  strings  of  trucks  and  snorting  locomotives.  On 
every  hand  came  the  din  of  moving  machinery.  Then 
frequently  they  were  held  up  by  slow-moving  horse 
vehicles. 

The  yards  at  Dorby  were  in  full  work.     In  spite  of  the 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  305 

wrecking,  work  went  on  just  the  same.  There  was  no 
general  dislocation.  The  phenomenon  was  typical  of  the 
hard-headed  northern  worker,  and  the  sureness  of  the 
steady  control  of  the  great  enterprise.  Every  unit  of  that 
great  army  of  workers  went  through  the  daily  routine 
with  one  eye  upon  the  time-sheet,  and  the  other  upon  the 
privileges  which  his  union  bestowed  upon  him.  For  the 
rest,  his  personal  concerns  only  began  when  the  steam 
siren  sounded  the  completion  of  his  day's  work. 

In  the  privacy  of  the  offices,  just  within  the  gates  of  the 
yards,  Ruxton  and  his  father  were  at  liberty  to  talk  more 
freely.  Yet  for  some  minutes  after  their  arrival  their 
inclination  kept  them  silent.  Each  was  thinking  on  the 
lines  which  appealed  most.  Ruxton  was  not  thinking  of 
Dorby  at  all. 

Sir  Andrew  was  standing  squarely  upon  the  skin  rug, 
with  his  back  to  the  fire.  More  than  ever  he  assumed 
the  likeness  to  a  pictorial  John  Bull.  Even  the  somewhat 
old-fashioned  morning-coat  he  wore  added  to  the  resem- 
blance. Ruxton  had  flung  himself  into  a  large  easy-chair. 
The  room  was  lofty  and  luxurious.  Nor  was  its  fashion 
extremely  modern.  It  savored  of  mid-Victorian  days, 
when  luxury  in  the  office  of  a  commercial  magnate  was 
first  brought  to  its  perfection. 

The  rain  had  increased,  and,  beyond  the  lofty  windows, 
it  was  now  steadily  teeming.  Sir  Andrew  was  the  first 
to  speak. 

"  I'm  trying  to  fathom  the  significance  of  it,"  he  said,  a 
little  helplessly. 

Ruxton's  dark  eyes  withdrew  from  the  window. 

41  Don't,"  he  said.  Then  he  added  :  "  It's  not  worth 
it." 


306  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

His  father's  shrewd  eyes  regarded  him  speculatively. 

"Not  worth  it?     How?" 

"  Why,  because  you  will  discover  it,  and  it  will  have 
been  trouble  for  nothing." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"It  is  simple.  There  is  only  one  meaning  to  it. 
Terror." 

In  spite  of  the  old  man's  disturbance  his  eyes  twinkled. 

"They'll  achieve  precious  little  of  that.  If  that's 
all " 

"  Exactly,  Dad.  Purposeless  destruction  is  a  fetish  of 
this  people.  Their  psychology  has  an  abnormal  belief  in 
terror.  They  judge  everybody  the  same.  You  have 
seen  it  in  a  hundred  ways.  Except  for  this  they  are  any- 
thing but  fools.  But  in  this  they  are  almost  childlike. 
They  know  they  cannot  stop  the  work  in  these  yards. 
They  know  if  they  destroy  a  dozen  sets  of  plans  there 
will  still  be  more  forthcoming.  They  know  all  this,  and 
are  childishly,  impotently  furious.  Their  first  thought  is 
revenge,  and  then  terrorizing.  They  think  they  can 
frighten  us  into  abandoning  the  work,  perhaps.  I  don't 
know.  There  is  one  thing  certain :  speculation  on  the 
matter  is  waste  of  your  valuable  efforts.  Sparling  is 
right ;  they  have  shown  their  hand.  They  will  get  no 
second  chance  on  the  same  lines.  They  have  achieved 
two  weeks'  delay.  That  is  all  they  have  achieved — 
here." 

"  Here  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  haven't  had  an  opportunity  of  telling  you 
before."  Ruxton  paused.  A  storm  had  gathered  in  his 
deep  eyes.  His  fair,  even  brows  were  drawn.  His  father 
noted  a  sudden  fullness  in  the  veins  at  his  temples.  Then, 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  307 

in  the  midst  of  the  affairs  of  the  moment,  he  remembered 
his  son's  hurried  rush  to  town,  and  its  purpose. 

Quite  suddenly  Ruxton  leapt  to  his  feet.  He  tow- 
ered over  the  staunch  figure  of  his  father.  His  eyes  had 
become  hot  and  straining. 

"  Yes,  what  they  have  achieved  here  is  futile.  But 
what  they  have  done  elsewhere  is — damnable,"  he  cried, 
with  hardly  repressed  fury.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  should  go 
mad.  I've  thought  and  thought  till  I  can  no  longer 
think  connectedly  upon  the  matter.  I  am  lost ;  utterly 
lost ;  groping  like  a  blind  man.  She  has  gone.  She's 
been  spirited  away,  stolen  ;  and  God  alone  knows  what 
suffering  and  torture  she  may  not  even  now  be  enduring. 
I  told  you  revenge  and  terror  are  the  motives  of  these 
people.  Their  plans  have  fallen  into  our  hands,  and  we 
are  availing  ourselves  of  them.  Remember,  the  secrets 
we  possess  are  the  most  precious  of  all  the  German  Gov- 
ernment's plans.  They  cannot  undo  that  mischief,  so 
they  turn  to  revenge,  for  which  they  have  an  infinite  ca- 
pacity. Who  are  they  going  to  be  revenged  upon  ?  Us  ? 
Yes,  as  far  as  possible.  Even  our  own  lives  may  be 
threatened.  But  more  than  all  they  intend  to  hurt  Von 
Hertzwohl  and — all  belonging  to  him.  They  mean  to 
kill  him,  and  possibly  the  others.  But  first  they  will  use 
his  daughter  to  get  at  him.  Do  you  see?  She  will  be 
tortured  until  she  delivers  him  into  their  hands,  and  then 
— God  knows." 

He  flung  out  his  arms  in  a  gesture  of  despair. 

His  father's  eyes  deepened  in  their  anxiety.  But  the 
set  of  his  strong  mouth  became  firmer. 

"Tell  me  just  what  has  happened."  The  demand 
spoken  so  quietly  had  the  effect  desired. 


308  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Ruxton  pulled  himself  together.  His  father  watched 
the  return  of  control  with  satisfaction. 

He  told  the  story  of  his  journey  to  Wednesford  calmly 
and  quietly,  without  missing  a  detail.  Sir  Andrew  lis- 
tened closely,  the  seriousness  of  his  attitude  deepening 
with  every  fresh  detail  which  pointed  the  certainty  of  foul 
play.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  story  he  was  as  gravely 
apprehensive  as  the  other,  and  his  sympathy  for  his  boy's 
heart-broken  condition  was  from  the  depths  of  his  de- 
voted heart. 

"  I've  got  the  best  Scotland  Yard  can  supply  working 
for  us,  and  each  man  has  been  offered  fabulous  rewards 
if  he  can  ascertain  her  whereabouts.  So  far  I  have  no 
news  ;  no  hope.  Dad,  I  love  Vita  so  that  this  thing  has 
nearly  set  me  crazy.  I  tell  you  I  must  find  her.  I  must 
save  her  from  these  devils,  or " 

"  Have  you  seen  Von  Hertzwohl  ?  " 

Ruxton  started.  His  drawn  face  and  straining  eyes 
underwent  a  complete  change  at  the  simple  enquiry  from 
his  father. 

«  No.     I " 

"  It  seems  to  me  if  their  object  is  to  get  at  him  it  should 
not  be  impossible  that  a  clue Besides,  I  sent  a  let- 
ter on  to  him,  which  came  under  cover  addressed  to  me. 
That  was  the  first  thing  this  morning,  just  before  you  ar- 
rived. It  was  written  in  a  woman's  hand,  and " 

"  God !  Why  didn't  you  speak  of  it  before  ?  "  The  de- 
mand was  almost  rough.  Such  was  the  rush  of  blind  hope 
that  suddenly  surged  through  the  younger  man's  heart. 

The  father's  eyes  twinkled. 

"  You  had  told  me  nothing.  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
trouble." 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  309 

"  Of  course.  I'm  sorry,  Dad."  Ruxton's  whole  atti- 
tude had  undergone  a  swift  change. 

Now  he  was  all  eager  hope,  and  strung  to  a  pitch  of 
desire  for  action. 

"  I  will  go  to  him  at  once." 

"  Now  ?  "  The  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  You're  too 
reckless,  boy.  Think  it  over  carefully.  Remember, 
Dorby  is  full  of  German  agents.  I  should  suggest  to- 
night. I  should  suggest  you  adopt  the  garb  of  a  worker. 
Ruxton  Farlow  visiting  a  working  man's  abode.  It 
would  be  too  inviting  to  our — enemies." 

"  Dad,  you're  right — always  right.  Yes ;  to-night. 
You  think  it  was  a  letter  from  her  ?  " 

Sir  Andrew  shook  his  head. 

"  I  haven't  an  idea,  boy,"  he  said  in  his  deliberate 
fashion.  "  How  could  I  be  expected  to  ?  The  letter 
came,  and  I  sent  it  on  by  hand.  A  perfectly  trustworthy 
hand,  under  cover  of  a  fresh  address  to  Mr.  Charles 
Smith.  Now  it's  different.  It  seems  it  might  be  a — 
clue." 

"  Might  ?  Of  course  it  is.  There  is  only  one  woman 
who  would  write  to  him.  But — why  not  have  written  to 
me?" 

The  same  thought  had  simultaneously  occurred  to  the 
father,  and,  as  it  came,  something  of  the  lighter  manner 
which  had  been  steadily  gathering  died  out  of  his  shrewd 
eyes. 

It  was  a  little  yellow  brick  cottage,  part  of  a  terrace  of 
a  dozen  or  so,  in  a  cul-de-sac,  guarded  at  its  entrance  by 
a  beer-house  on  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  a  general 
shop.  The  brickwork  was  black  with  years  of  fog  and 


3io  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

soot,  and  the  English  climate.  The  front  of  it  possessed 
three  windows  and  a  doorway,  with  a  step  that  at  rare 
intervals  was  tinted  with  a  sort  of  yellow  ochre.  The 
windows  were  curtainless,  and  suggested  years  of  un- 
cleanliness  in  the  inhabitants. 

The  interior  was  little  better.  The  owners  of  the  place 
lived  down-stairs.  The  two  small  rooms  above  were  let 
to  lodgers  of  the  working  class.  One  of  the  latter  was 
employed  in  one  of  the  shipyards.  The  other  the  poor 
housewife  was  doubtful  about.  He  remained  unem- 
ployed, and  was  a  foreigner  ;  but  he  paid  his  rent,  "and 
didn't  seem  to  require  her  to  do  any  cooking  for  him. 
Then  he  seemed  fond  of  her  dirty-faced  children,  of 
whom  there  seemed  to  be  an  endless  string,  who  fre- 
quently invaded  his  quarters,  and  submitted  him  to  an 
interminable  catechism  of  childish  enquiry. 

Otherwise  the  tall,  lean  workman  with  the  hollow 
cheeks  and  luminous  eyes  was  left  to  prosecute  his  ap- 
parently fruitless  search  for  work  unquestioned.  Mrs. 
Clark  was  far  too  busy  with  her  brood  of  offspring  to 
concern  herself  with  his  affairs,  a  small  mercy  vouchsafed 
him,  and  for  which  he  was  duly  thankful.  Mr.  Charles 
Smith  by  no  means  courted  the  intimacy  of  his  neigh- 
bors, or  his  fellow-lodger ;  at  the  same  time,  he  avoided 
exciting  any  suspicion. 

He  had  received  a  letter  that  morning.  He  had  read 
it  at  once.  It  was  written  in  German,  but  the  address 
upon  the  outer  envelope  was  in  a  bold  English  hand- 
writing. After  reading  it  he  straightened  up  his  meagre 
room  in  a  preoccupied  fashion.  His  big,  foreign-looking 
eyes  were  more  than  usually  reflective,  and  a  curious 
pucker  of  thought  had  drawn  his  shaggy  brows  together. 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  311 

Then,  as  was  his  rule,  he  passed  out  of  the  house,  greet- 
ing the  ragged  fragments  of  humanity,  who  owed — and 
rarely  yielded — obedience  to  Mrs.  Clark,  in  his  friendly 
fashion,  and  set  out  on  what  appeared  to  be  his  daily 
pursuit  of  employment.  He  returned  at  noon. 

He  read  his  letter  again,  and  sat  thinking  about  it  un- 
til he  was  disturbed  by  one  of  the  children.  Then  he 
again  set  forth.  Nor  did  he  return  to  his  abode  until 
darkness  had  closed  in,  and  the  army  of  small  children 
had  been  bestowed  for  the  night  in  their  various  nooks 
and  corners  of  the  lower  premises. 

He  lit  the  cheap  oil  lamp  on  his  table,  seated  himself 
in  the  unstable  old  basket-chair  beside  his  uninviting 
bed,  and  settled  himself  for  a  third  perusal  of  his  letter. 

It  was  a  long  letter,  and  it  was  signed  "  Vita."  It  was 
written  in  a  striking  feminine  hand,  which  moulded  the 
spidery  German  characters  into  something  unusually 
strong  and  characteristic.  He  displayed  a  mild  wonder 
that  German  characters  supervened  the  signature.  But 
the  wonder  passed  as  he  read,  lost  in  the  gravity  of  alarm 
which  steadily  grew  in  his  eyes  as  he  turned  each  page. 

He  paused  during  this  third  reading  at  several  of 
the  paragraphs.  He  reread  them,  as  though  he  would 
penetrate  the  last  fraction  of  their  significance.  And  at 
each  pause,  at  each  rereading,  his  disquiet  grew. 

That  letter  had  a  grave  effect  upon  him.  So  much  so 
that  he  forgot  time,  he  forgot  that  he  had  yet  to  go  out 
and  seek  food  at  some  ham-and-beef  shop,  and  that  he 
was  hungry.  The  final  paragraph  of  the  letter  perhaps 
affected  him  most  of  all,  and  gave  him  an  unease  of  heart 
which  none  of  the  rest  could  have  done.  It  was  a  para- 
graph which  opened  up  for  his  scrutiny  the  depths  of  a 


312  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

woman's  soul  in  the  first  great  rush  of  a  passionate  love. 
He  had  read  this  with  deep  emotion,  and  a  great  sym- 
pathy. And  as  he  read  it  he  felt  something  of  the  wrong 
which,  through  him  and  his  efforts,  was  being  inflicted 
upon  the  woman  whom  it  was  his  paternal  right  to  cher- 
ish and  protect.  Then,  in  the  last  lines  of  this  outpour- 
ing, he  received  the  final  blow  which  brought  him  a 
realization.  It  was  an  example  of  the  wonderful  mag- 
nanimity and  self-sacrifice  of  a  woman's  love.  It  was  the 
renunciation  of  all  her  hopes  and  yearnings  in  the  inter- 
ests of  the  man  upon  whom  she  had  bestowed  the  wealth 
and  treasure  of  her  woman's  heart. 

He  mechanically  folded  up  the  letter  and  returned  it 
to  an  inner  pocket.  He  rose  with  a  sigh,  and  gazed 
about  him  uncertainly.  The  meaning  of  his  sordid  sur- 
roundings passed  him  by.  His  thoughts  were  on  so 
many  other  things  which  filled  his  active  faculties,  leav- 
ing no  room  for  the  consideration  of  his  own  comforts. 
He  even  forgot  that  he  had  not  eaten  since  noon.  He 
extracted  a  sheet  of  paper  from  a  small  locked  hand-grip, 
and  set  about  writing  a  brief  message — a  message  such 
as  he  had  been  asked  for.  He  enclosed  it  in  an  envel- 
ope and  addressed  it  to  Redwithy  Farm  in  Buckingham- 
shire. 

He  had  just  completed  his  task  when  the  stairs  outside 
his  door  creaked  under  a  heavy  footfall.  The  next  mo- 
ment there  was  a  knock  at  his  door. 

Two  minutes  later  Ruxton  Farlow,  clad  in  workman's 
clothes,  occupied  the  protesting  wicker-chair,  while  Prince 
von  Hertzwohl  contented  himself  with  a  seat  upon  the 
unyielding  bed.  The  oil  lamp  shone  dully  upon  the 
table  and  threw  into  dim  relief  two  faces,  whose  strength 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  313 

and  suggestion  of  mentality  suited  ill  the  quality  of  the 
clothes  which  covered  the  bodies  beneath  them. 

To  Von  Hertzwohl  it  was  as  though  some  miracle  of 
a  none  too  pleasant  nature  had  been  performed.  In  view 
of  his  letter  from  Vita,  Ruxton  Farlow  was  the  last  per- 
son he  desired  to  see.  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  been 
waiting  anxiously  to  hear  from  him,  or  see  him  on  the 
subject  of  the  happenings  at  the  yards,  of  which  the 
whole  town  of  Dorby  had  become  aware. 

Ruxton  had  his  own  purpose  in  view,  but  the  Prince 
gave  him  no  opportunity  of  developing  it  at  the  first  ex- 
citement of  the  meeting. 

"  Tell  me,  Mr.  Farlow.  Tell  me  of  it  all,"  he  cried,  in 
his  swift,  impulsive  way.  "  I  have  heard  so  much  and 
know  so  little.  I  have  lived  through  a  fever  since  yes- 
terday morning.  I  have  listened  to  the  wildest  stories 
of  conspiracies  and  plots.  It  is  said,  even,  that  your 
father's  offices  have  been  destroyed ;  that  he  has  been 
injured.  But  I  knew  that  was  not  right.  You  will  tell 
me  it  all." 

Ruxton  was  reluctantly  forced  to  abandon  his  own 
purpose  for  the  moment.  He  even  smiled  in  answer  to 
the  old  man's  wide,  eager  eyes. 

"  They  have  started  on  us,"  he  said,  with  quiet  con- 
fidence. "  Oh,  yes,  they  have  started.  The  purpose 
was  well  intentioned,  but  of  childish  inception  and  in- 
different execution.  They  have  delayed  work  for  per- 
haps two  weeks.  They  have  become  obsessed  with  the 
use  of  bombs,  which  was  a  disease  during  the  war." 

"  But  the  explosions — they  were  terrific.  I  heard  them 
here,  in  this  bed." 

"  The   German   race   can  do  nothing  without  bluster, 


314  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

and  they  seem  to  regard  bluster  as  achievement.  They 
destroyed  the  slipways  of  two  of  the  new  submersibles, 
with  little  damage  to  the  vessels  themselves.  They 
have  destroyed  an  office,  and  the  working-plans  therein. 
We  have  many  others,  and  your  originals  are  safely  dis- 
posed. It  is  nothing.  It  is  scarcely  worth  discussing." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head — that  wonderful  head — 
which  still  fascinated  the  Englishman.  The  latter  noted 
the  added  intellectuality  of  the  face  since  it  had  been 
clean  shaven.  It  was  a  splendid  face. 

"  No."  There  was  an  anxious  light  still  lurking  in 
the  wide  eyes  of  the  inventor.  "  But  it  is  the  begin- 
ning. Only  the  beginning.  Who  knows  what  may 
happen  next?" 

Ruxton  threw  up  his  head.  His  eyes  were  full  of  a 
world  of  pain  and  suffering.  The  change  had  been 
wrought  by  the  man's  last  words. 

"  That  is  it,"  he  cried.  "  It  is  not  the  destruction  at 
the  yards.  It  is  that  which  also  they  may  do — which 
they  have  done.  It  is  that  which  has  brought  me  here 
now.  I  am  nearly  mad  with  anxiety  and  dread.  I  am 
thinking  of  your — daughter,  sir.  I  can  find  no  trace 
of  her  at  her  house,  or  elsewhere.  She  has  gone, 
vanished,  spirited  away  without  a  word  to  her — 
friends." 

The  Prince's  face  became  a  study  in  bewilderment. 
His  luminous  eyes  looked  to  have  grown  bigger  than 
ever.  He  opened  his  lips  to  speak.  Then  he  closed 
them.  Then  he  fumbled  in  his  pocket. 

"  Since  when  has  she ?  " 

But  he  was  not  permitted  to  complete  his  question. 

"Since   the   day   of  your  arrival   here,   sir,"    Ruxton 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  315 

cried.  "I  wired  her  a  message,  and  it  remained  un- 
answered." 

"Tell  me  of  it."  The  puzzled  expression  remained, 
but  there  was  more  confidence  in  the  Prince's  manner. 
He  was  grasping  his  folded  letter  in  his  hand.  He 
had  remembered  its  contents,  and  the  promise  it  had 
demanded. 

Ruxton  briefly  told  him  of  the  search  he  had  em- 
barked on.  He  told  of  the  services  of  Scotland  Yard 
he  had  employed.  And  he  told  of  the  negative  result 
of  all  his  efforts.  Then  he  broke  out  in  the  passionate 
pain  of  the  strong  soul  within  him.  He  told  this  father 
the  simple  story  of  his  love.  It  was  simple,  and  big, 
and  strong.  And  the  Prince,  in  the  simplicity  of  his 
own  soul,  understood  and  approved. 

"  I  know.  I  have  understood  it,  guessed  it — what 
you  will.  I  know,  and  it  gives  me  happiness."  He 
sighed  nevertheless.  It  seemed  to  Ruxton  as  though 
his  sigh  were  a  denial.  The  grey  head  was  inclined. 
His  eyes  were  bent  upon  the  letter  in  his  hand.  He 
seemed  to  be  considering  deeply.  Suddenly  he  raised 
a  pair  of  troubled  eyes  to  Ruxton's. 

"  But  she  is  at  home.  She  is  at  Redwithy.  Our 
enemies  have  not  laid  hands  upon  her.  She  is  not 
without  her  fears,  but  she  is  well,  and  unmolested  in 
her  home.  I  had  this  letter  from  her  only  this  morn- 
ing. It  came  through  your  father.  It  must  have  been 
written  last  night.  So  she  was  at  Redwithy  last  night. 
See,  here  is  the  heading.  It  is  her  writing.  I  would 
know  it  in  a  thousand.  There  is  a  mistake.  It  must 
be  a  mistake." 

Ruxton  had  no  answer  for  him.     That  which  he  saw 


3i6  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

and  heard  now  was  incredible.  He  half  reached  out 
to  take  the  letter,  but  he  drew  back.  He  was  burning 
to  read  and  examine  that  letter,  but  the  Prince  gave  no 
sign  of  yielding  it  up ;  and  he  knew,  in  spite  of  all  his 
anxiety,  he  had  no  right  to  claim  such  a  privilege. 

Perhaps  Von  Hertzwohl  understood  something  of  that 
which  was  passing  in  the  younger  man's  mind.  Per- 
haps the  appeal  to  his  sympathy  was  more  than  he  could 
resist.  He  opened  the  letter.  Then  he  folded  it  afresh 
so  that  the  heading  and  the  signature  were  alone  visible. 
He  held  it  out. 

"  Look.  You  know  her  writing.  There  it  is — and  her 
signature." 

Ruxton  leant  forward  eagerly.  He  examined  the  writ- 
ing closely.  Amazement  grew  in  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  as  he  sat  back  in  his  chair.  "  It  is 
hers — undoubtedly." 

And  he  realized  by  the  manner  in  which  the  father 
had  displayed  these  things  to  him  that  it  was  his  way  of 
assuring  him  that  he  was  not  to  be  permitted  to  know 
the  contents  of  the  letter. 

In  consequence,  a  silence  fell  between  them.  And 
each  knew  it  was  a  silence  of  restraint.  Ruxton  was 
endeavoring  to  discover  a  possible  reason  for  the 
Prince's  attitude,  and  he  felt  that  his  reticence  must  be 
attributable  to  Vita's  wish.  If  it  were  her  wish  there 
must  be  some  vital  reason.  What  reason  could  there 

be  unless ?  Was  she  avoiding  him  purposely? 

Was  her  absence  from  Redwithy  her  own  doing? 
Was  it  that  now,  her  work  completed,  she  wished 

to ?  A  sweat  broke  out  upon  his  broad  forehead, 

and  he  stirred  uneasily. 


THE  WRECK  AT  DORBY  317 

Then,  in  the  midst  of  his  trouble,  the  other  spoke,  and 
his  words  helped  to  corroborate  all  his  worst  apprehen- 
sion. The  old  man's  words  were  gently  spoken.  They 
were  full  of  a  deep  and  sincere  regret.  But  they  were 
equally  full  of  an  irrevocable  decision. 

"  Mr.  Farlow,"  he  said,  in  his  quaintly  formal  manner, 
"  I  must  leave  here.  I  must  leave  England.  There  is 
danger — great  danger  in  my  remaining.  Oh,  not  for 
me,"  he  went  on,  in  response  to  a  question  in  the  other's 
eyes.  "  I  do  not  care  that  for  danger  to  my  life."  He 
flicked  his  fingers  in  the  air.  "Danger?  It  is  the 
breath  of  life.  No,  it  is  not  that.  I  am  thinking  of  my 
friends.  I  am  thinking  of  the  project  which  is  so  dear  to 
my  heart — to  my  daughter's  heart,  as  well  as  mine.  My 
presence  here  can  only  add  jeopardy  to  others.  I  can 
serve  no  purpose.  I  have  your  promise  that  the  work 
will  go  on  to  its  finish.  It  is  all  I  can  ask.  And  in  that 
my  services  are  not  needed.  I  shall  leave  for  some  part 
of  America.  That  is  all." 

Ruxton's  thoughtful  eyes  were  searching.  He  was  ex- 
ercising great  restraint. 

"  Will  you  be  safer  in  any  other  part  of  the  world  ?  " 

The  other  hesitated.  The  awkwardness  of  his  excuses 
troubled  him.  He  finally  shrugged. 

"It  is  not  for  myself.  This  place  is  alive  with  spies 
searching  for  me.  I  know  it.  I — far  more  than  the  ship- 
yards— am  the  magnet  that  draws  them  here.  It  is  not 
good  for  the  work.  It  is  not  good  for  you — or  your  father. 
Who  knows ?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  they  have  traced  you  here?" 

The  Prince's  thin  cheeks  flushed. 

"  I  know  it,"  he  said,  and  the  manner  of  his  assertion 


3i8  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

warned  Ruxton  that  it  was  useless  to  proceed  further  in 
the  matter. 

He  knew  beyond  a  doubt  that  some  influence  was  at 
work,  the  secret  of  which  he  was  not  to  be  admitted  to. 
He  knew  beyond  question  that  that  secret  had  been  com- 
municated to  her  father  in  Vita's  letter.  He  knew  that  it 
was  something  vital  and  pressing  which  she  desired  kept 
from  him.  What  was  it  ?  For  him  there  was  only  one 
explanation.  For  some  incomprehensible  reason  she 
meant  to  abandon  him.  But  was  it  incomprehensible  ? 
Was  it  ?  She  was  a  woman — a  beautiful,  beautiful 
woman.  There  were  other  men,  doubtless  hundreds  of 
men,  who  might  possess  greater  attractions  for  her  than 
he  could  ever  hope  to  possess.  And  yet — no,  he  could 
not,  would  not  believe  it. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

RUXTON  ARRIVES  AT  A  GREAT  DECISION 

RUXTON  spent  another  long  day  and  night  travelling. 
He  reached  London  and  Smith  Square  in  a  fog,  which  by 
no  means  helped  to  lighten  his  mood.  He  visited  Scot- 
land Yard,  where  he  spent  an  hour  in  close  consultation, 
and  when  he  departed  thence  for  Buckinghamshire  he 
was  accompanied  by  a  prominent  officer.  He  spent 
several  hours  at  Wednesford  and  Red  withy,  and  finally 
returned  again  to  town. 

His  movements  were  made  with  a  complete  disregard  for 
himself.  Weary  ?  Depressed  and  worn  out,  he  admitted 
to  himself  he  had  no  time  for  weariness.  He  was  obsessed 
by  one  thought  now,  one  thought  which  dominated  all 
others.  He  had  lost  Vita.  She  seemed  to  be  passing 
completely  and  finally  out  of  his  life. 

On  his  return  to  Smith  Square  he  spent  the  long  even- 
ing alone.  He  would  see  nobody.  He  would  transact 
no  business,  and  the  faithful  Heathcote  was  distressed,  he 
even  protested.  But  for  once  the  usual  amenability  of  his 
friend  and  employer  was  lost  amidst  a  jarring  irritability, 
and  the  secretary  was  forced  to  leave  him  to  his  un- 
gracious solitude. 

During  that  long  evening  alone  Ruxton  endured  a  series 
of  mental  tortures  such  as  only  the  imaginative  can  ever 
be  called  upon  to  endure.  Every  conceivable  aspect  of 
the  situation  arose  before  his  mind's  eye,  clad  in  the  drab 


320  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

of  hopelessness,  until  it  seemed  there  could  be  no  possible 
place  for  one  single  gleam  of  promise.  Many  of  these 
pictures  were  based  upon  the  insidious  doubts  which 
never  fail  to  attack  those  in  the  throes  of  a  consuming 
passion  such  as  his. 

At  one  moment  he  saw,  in  the  disaster  which  had  befallen 
him,  the  duplicity  of  a  woman  whose  love  has  no  depth, 
whose  love  is  the  mere  superficial  attraction  of  the  mo- 
ment, and  which,  under  given  conditions,  can  be  flung 
aside  as  a  thing  of  no  consequence,  no  value.  Following 
upon  each  such  accusation  came  denial — simple,  swift, 
emphatic  denial,  as  he  remembered  the  treasured  mo- 
ments in  the  little  flat  in  Kensington  ;  as  he  remembered 
the  woman  of  the  Yorkshire  cliffs  ;  the  woman  whose 
shining  eyes  had  revealed  the  mother  soul  within  her  as 
she  appealed  for  the  great  world  of  humanity  with  pas- 
sionate denial  of  self.  Doubts  of  her  could  not  remain 
behind  such  memories.  It  was  like  doubting  the  rise  of 
the  morrow's  sun. 

Then,  too,  the  simplicity  of  his  own  loyalty,  apart  from 
all  reason,  denied  for  him.  It  was  the  simple  psychology 
of  the  devoted  Slav  in  him  battling  and  defeating  the 
more  acrimonious  and  fault-finding  nature  of  his  insular 
forebears. 

There  was  reason  enough  for  his  doubts.  He  knew 
that.  The  steady  balance  of  reason  was  markedly  his, 
and  once,  after  a  feverish  struggle,  he  allowed  himself  to 
give  it  play,  and  sought  to  review  the  case  as  might  a 
prosecuting  counsel. 

The  salient  points  of  the  situation  were  so  marked  that 
they  could  not  be  missed.  Vita  had  gone  to  Redwithy  in 
a  fever  of  anticipation,  with  assurances  of  devotion  to 


RUXTON  ARRIVES  AT  A  GREAT  DECISION    321 

him  upon  her  beautiful  lips,  to  await  a  message  from  him 
of  her  father's  safety.  That  message  is  duly  dispatched. 
It  reaches  its  destination.  It  is  opened  by  some  one  and 
carefully  re-sealed.  Vita  sends  no  acknowledgment. 
Later  it  is  discovered  that  Vita  has  left  Red  withy,  almost 
on  the  moment  of  her  arrival  at  her  home,  since  when  she 
has  not  returned.  Apparently  her  going  is  voluntary. 

On  the  face  of  it,  it  would  appear  that  she  has  not  re- 
ceived the  message.  But  subsequently  she  proves,  by 
writing  to  her  father,  that  she  is  aware  of  his  safe  arrival, 
which  is  the  news  contained  in  his  message.  Further- 
more, she  addresses  her  letter  from  Red  withy,  as  though 
she  desires  him  to  communicate  with  her  at  that  place. 
All  these  facts  are  so  definite  that  the  reasonable  conclu- 
sion is  that  Vita  has  wilfully  endeavored  to  hide  herself 
from  him — Ruxton. 

That,  he  told  himself,  was  the  cold  logic  of  it. 

Then,  even  as  he  arrived  at  the  conclusion,  a  hot  pas- 
sion of  denial  leapt.  It  was  wrong,  wrong.  He  could 
stake  his  soul  on  it  it  was  wrong.  Logic?  Argument? 
Reason  ?  They  were  all  fallible  ;  fallible  as — as  hell. 
Anyway,  they  were  in  this  case,  he  moodily  assured  him- 
self. Vita  was  above  all  such  petty  trickery.  So  con- 
temptible a  conclusion  was  an  insult  to  a  pure,  brave, 
beautiful  soul.  It  belonged  to  the  gutter  in  which,  he  told 
himself,  he  was  floundering. 

There  must  be  another  reply  to  every  question  which 
the  evidence  opened  up.  What  was  the  other  view  of 
it?  He  leapt  back  at  once  to  his  first  inspiration. 
Treachery — treachery  of  the  enemy.  His  first  prompt- 
ing had  been  that  Vita  had  fallen  into  their  hands. 
How,  then,  could  this  be  made  to  fit  in  with  the  letter 


322  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Prince  von  Hertzwohl  had  received  from  his  daughter? 
At  the  first  consideration  it  seemed  that  such  fitment  be- 
came impossible. 

But  he  attacked  it ;  he  attacked  it  with  all  the  vigor 
and  imagination  of  a  keen,  resolute  brain,  backed  by  the 
passionate  yearning  of  his  soul.  But  dark  mists  of  con- 
fusion obscured  the  light  he  sought — mists  of  confusion 
and  seeming  impossibility  through  which  he  must  grope 
and  flounder  his  way. 

For  a  long  time  there  seemed  no  promise.  A  dozen 
times  hope  fell  headlong  and  died  the  death.  But  with 
each  rebuff  he  started  afresh  at  the  given  point  that — Vita 
was  in  enemy  hands,  whose  will  she  was  forced  to  obey. 

After  long  hours  of  defeat  his  efforts  wearied.  His 
power  of  concentration  lessened.  He  found  himself  re- 
peating over  and  over  again  his  formula  without  advanc- 
ing one  single  step.  Bodily  fatigue  was  helping  to 
oppress  his  mental  faculties.  He  was  growing  sleepy. 
Again  and  again  he  strove  to  rouse  himself.  But  the  net 
results  of  his  effort  was  a  continuation  of  the  idiotic 
repetition  of  his  formula. 

He  was  not  really  aware  of  these  things.  Mental  and 
bodily  weariness  had  completely  supervened.  Another 

few  minutes  and But  something  galvanized  him 

into  complete  wakefulness.  His  weariness  fell  from  him, 
and  he  started  up  in  his  chair  alert — vigorously  alert. 
By  some  extraordinary  subconscious  effort  he  had  be- 
come aware  that  his  formula  had  changed.  He  was  no 
longer  repeating  it  in  full — only  the  latter  portion  of  it : 
"  Whose  will  she  is  forced  to  obey."  And  as  he  thought 
of  them  now  the  words  rang  with  a  new  and  powerful 
significance. 


RUXTON  ARRIVES  AT  A  GREAT  DECISION    323 

It  was  the  spark  of  light  he  had  so  long-  sought,  and 
it  had  leapt  out  at  him  from  amidst  the  deep  mists  of 
confusion. 

So  it  was  that  when  eleven  o'clock  came,  and  the  hall 
gong  clanged  below,  Ruxton  went  himself  to  admit  his 
visitor  from  Scotland  Yard.  His  whole  aspect  had  com- 
pletely changed  from  the  dispirited  creature  who  had 
curtly  refused  to  consider  matters  which  Heathcote  had 
placed  before  him  some  hours  previously. 

Inspector  Purdic  was  a  smiling,  dark  man  of  athletic 
build  and  decided  manner.  He  was  by  no  means  of 
senior  rank  in  his  profession.  But  his  reputation  was 
unique  amongst  his  colleagues.  It  was  said  of  him  that 
his  record  could  be  divided  into  two  parts,  as  everybody 
else's  could,  but  with  this  difference :  his  failures  came 
during  his  early  days  of  inexperience,  and  could  be 
marked  off  with  a  sharp  line  of  division.  Beneath  that 
line  was  nothing  but  a  list  of  successes. 

The  officer's  manner  was  deferential.  He  had  had  to 
deal  with  many  men  of  considerable  position.  But  this 
was  the  first  time  he  had  been  brought  into  contact  with 
a  Cabinet  Minister,  even  of  junior  rank. 

He  felt  that  it  was  a  fresh  step  up  the  ladder  he  had 
set  for  his  own  climbing.  He  had  made  his  visit  there 
late  in  the  hope  that  the  Cabinet  Minister  might  be  in- 
duced to  give  him  a  protracted  and  uninterrupted  inter- 
view, and  was  pleasantly  surprised  at  the  manner  in  which 
his  explanation  was  received. 

"  You  see,  sir,"  he  said,  "  it's  always  a  difficulty 
with  us,  dealing  with  a  busy  public  man.  So  I  took  a 
chance,  because  there's  got  to  be  a  lot  of  close  talk 
done." 


324  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

But  Ruxton  denied  the  need  for  apology. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact  I'm  glad  you've  called — now.  If 
it  had  been  earlier  I  should  not  have  been  so  pleased." 
He  laughed,  and  the  smiling  eyes  of  the  officer  noted  the 
laugh  carefully. 

"  That's  all  right  then,  sir." 

The  two  men  passed  up-stairs  to  Ruxton's  study,  and, 
while  he  revelled  in  the  enjoyment  of  one  of  his  host's 
best  cigars,  Purdic  bluntly  set  out  the  objects  he  sought 
in  this  late  visit. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Farlow,"  he  began,  "  we've  been  on  this 
thing  some  days  now,  and  we're  still  groping  around 
like  a  pair  of  babes  in  the  wood.  We've  located  a  few 
bits.  We've  discovered  certain  suspicious  circumstances, 
but  nothing's  led  anywhere,  and  we're  just  as  far  off  find- 
ing this  Princess  as  if  we  were  dodging  icebergs  up 
around  the  Pole.  And  do  you  know  why,  sir?  " 

Ruxton  was  not  without  ideas  on  the  subject,  but  he 
nevertheless  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said.  He  was  lounging  in  the  chair  which 
had  claimed  him  nearly  all  the  evening. 

The  other  cleared  his  throat. 

"  Because  you've  set  up  a  brick  wall  between  me  and 
the  job  you've  set  me  at.  The  wall's  high  and  thick,  and 
it's  plastered  with  Government  political  secrecy.  You 
mustn't  mind  my  speaking  this  way,  sir.  You  see,  you 
want  certain  work  done,  and  I  want  to  do  it.  But 
miracles  don't  concern  me,  and  that's  what  you're  ask- 
ing of  me,  unless  you  break  down  that  wall.  With  due 
respect,  sir,  it's  no  use  asking  men  of  my  profession  to 
disentangle  a  skein  of  fine  thread  and  refuse  to  let  'em 
handle  the  skein.  It  can't  be  done  ;  that's  all." 


RUXTON  ARRIVES  AT  A  GREAT  DECISION    325 

Ruxton  nodded,  and  the  man  with  the  smiling  face 
went  on. 

"  I  want  to  know  what  lies  behind,  sir.  That's  what 
I've  come  here  for  to-night.  You'll  either  tell  me,  or 
you  won't.  You  are  the  best  judge  of  what  is  at  stake, 
and  whether  you  are  justified  in  disclosing  secrets  in  the 
hope  of  discovering  the  whereabouts  of  the  Princess. 
The  question  is,  is  the  discovery  of  her  worth  the  risk  ? 
From  the  moment  I  began  on  this  I  saw  the  direction 
things  were  taking.  Now,  this  man  Vassilitz  is  a  for- 
eigner. All  the  servants  at  Redwithy  are  foreigners. 
The  lady  herself  is  a  foreign — princess.  Her  record  dur- 
ing the  war  tells  of  her  Polish  origin.  There  were  three 
Polands :  Russian,  Austrian  and  German.  She  claimed 
Russian,  and  was  known  by  a  Russian-sounding  name. 
Her  title  sounds  German.  That's  all  the  history  of  her  I 
have  got.  But  if  I'm  any  judge  there's  a  lot  more,  and 
in  that  additional  history  lies  the  secret  of  her  present 
disappearance.  Well,  sir,  that's  my  case,  and  I  put  it  to 
you.  If  you  cannot  see  your  way  to  telling  me  anything 
more,  I  can  hold  out  very  little  hope.  I  shall  naturally 
continue  to  work  the  matter,  but " 

The  man  was  still  smiling  his  involuntary  smile,  which 
was  due  to  a  curious  facial  formation.  Nor  could  Rux- 
ton help  realizing  the  perfect  mask  it  became.  But  his 
demands  were  startling  and  a  little  disconcerting.  He 
rose  from  his  chair  and  began  to  pace  the  room,  his  pre- 
occupation finding  expression  in  the  gnawing  of  one  of 
his  finger-nails. 

The  other  watched  him  through  the  veil  of  smoke 
which  hung  upon  the  warm  air  of  the  room.  Finally  he 
came  to  a  halt  on  the  rug  before  the  fire. 


326  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Yes,  it's  political,"  he  admitted.  Then,  with  a  curious 
upward  jerk  of  his  head,  and  a  hot  light  in  his  dark  eyes  : 
"  Damnably  political — and  secret." 

"Yes?" 

Ruxton  laughed. 

"  You  want  more  ;  much  more.  You  want  it  all."  He 
shook  his  head.  "  But  you  can't  have  it.  That's  been 
the  devil  of  it,  eh  ?  No,  I  can't  tell  you  all  you  want  to 
know.  But  I  can  tell  you  this  much.  It's  your  brains — 
our  brains  against  all  the  arch-devilry  of  the  German 
Government,  backed  by  no  less  a  person  than  the " 

The  detective  gave  a  long,  low  whistle. 

"  It's  as  serious  as  that  ?  "     He  stirred  in  his  chair. 

"  Serious  ?  It's  likely  to  involve  the  death  of  anybody 
concerned.  Not  only  the  victims  of  these  machinations, 
but  of  those  who  interfere  on  their  behalf.  There,  that's 
all  I  can  say  of  what  lies  behind,  and  you  must  be  satis- 
fied, or  pretend  to  be.  Meanwhile  I  can  tell  you  some- 
thing which  is  going  to  be  helpful  to  us,  which  I  couldn't 
have  told  you  if  you  had  paid  your  visit  an  hour  or  so 
earlier.  I  have  discovered  a  means  by  which  I  fancy  the 
Princess  can  be  rescued  from  these  German  demons." 

Ruxton  turned,  and  again  flung  himself  into  his  chair. 
He  was  smiling  with  confidence  and  hope.  The  officer 
insinuated  his  chair  nearer  and  waited.  Every  faculty 
was  alert.  The  other  took  no  notice  of  his  movements. 
He  was  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts.  He  had  taken  a 
great  decision,  and  all  his  imaginative  faculties  were  at 
work  piecing  together  the  pictured  details. 

The  officer  coughed.  The  long  pause  was  becoming 
too  extended  for  his  patience.  Ruxton  started.  He 
looked  round  and  smiled. 


RUXTON  ARRIVES  AT  A  GREAT  DECISION    327 

"  Listen  to  this,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  me  what  you  think." 

It  was  well  past  midnight  when  Detective-Inspector 
Purdic  rose  to  take  his  departure.  The  automatic  smile 
on  his  face  had  broadened  noticeably,  and  Ruxton  felt 
that  now,  at  least,  it  was  inspired.  He,  too,  was  smiling. 
His  own  decision  had  met  with  something  more  than  ap- 
proval from  the  professional.  The  man  had  caught  some- 
thing of  the  quiet  daring  of  the  brain  which  had  been 
keen  enough  to  penetrate  the  meaning  of  certain  obscure 
signs,  and  reckless  enough  to  evolve  a  plan  of  action 
which  promised  a  possibility  of  defeating  all  the  trickery 
against  which  they  were  pitted. 

Furthermore,  the  officer  had  been  able  to  point  certain 
vital  matters,  and  offer  suggestions  in  several  directions 
of  importance  out  of  his  long  experience.  Between  them 
they  had  matured  carefully,  and  placed  in  concrete  form, 
a  plan  which,  under  any  other  conditions  of  a  less  grave 
nature,  must  have  appeared  the  veriest  of  forlorn  hopes, 
and  which  either  .of  them  would  certainly  have  classed 
amongst  the  schemes  of  the  most  advanced  cases  con- 
fined within  the  four  walls  of  a  lunatic  asylum. 

"  I'm  glad  I  came,  sir,"  said  the  officer,  in  his  blunt 
fashion.  "  I  had  my  doubts  about  it.  It  didn't  seem  to 
offer  much  hope,  seeing  I  was  dealing  with  a  Cabinet 
Minister  who  hadn't  seen  his  way,  so  far,  to  opening  out 
on  official  secrets  of  his  own  accord  ;  and  on  that  score,  I 
admit,  it  was  no  use.  But  you've  done  better  than  that, 
sir.  You've  taught  me  something  which  twenty  years  of 
my  own  business  wasn't  able  to  teach  me — and  it's  in  my 
own  line,  too.  I  sort  of  feel,  sir,  some  one's  going  to 
wake  up  with  a  horrid  start,  and — it  won't  be  us.  Good- 
night, sir,  and  thank  you.  I'll  set  everything  in  train 


328  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

without  delay.  I  shall  take  the  five  men  I  mentioned 
with  me  when  I  go  north  to-morrow,  and  look  to  the  local 
police  for  any  other  force  we  may  need." 

"  Good."  Ruxton  shook  him  by  the  hand.  "  I'll  see 
to  the  other  side  of  it  in — my  own  way.  Good-night, 
and  thank  you  for  coming." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE  SWEETNESS  OF  LIFE 

VON  SALZINGER  was  in  a  bad  mood.  He  was  feeling 
the  effects  of  close  personal  contact  with  the  authority 
which  he  had  been  bred  to  acknowledge,  to  obey.  In 
the  abstract  he  admitted  the  right  of  it.  In  practice  he 
had  little  enough  complaint.  But  in  personal  contact 
with  the  administrators  of  it  the  tyranny  became  madden- 
ing. For  once  in  his  life  he  realized  how  far  short  of  a 
free-acting,  free-thinking  being  he  really  was,  in  spite  of 
the  considerable  rank  of  Captain-General  to  which  he  had 
risen. 

He  possessed  all  the  dominating  personality  of  his 
race,  all  the  hectoring  brutality  of  his  fellow-Prussians. 
He  had  no  difficulty  in  submitting  to  a  system  which  he 
found  pleasure  in  enforcing  upon  those  who  acknowl- 
edged his  authority,  but  to  endure  the  personal  meting 
out  of  such  discipline  by  Von  Berger  was  maddeningly 
irritating.  He  felt  that  his  association  with  the  all-power- 
ful intimate  of  the  Emperor  was  nearing  the  breaking- 
point,  and  when  that  point  was  reached  he  knew  that 
whatever  breaking  took  place  he  was  bound  to  be  the 
chief  sufferer. 

His  irritation  lasted  all  day.  He  had  received  a  num- 
ber of  definite  instructions,  as  though  he  were  some 
insignificant  underling.  Von  Berger  had  dictated  his 
requirements.  And  Von  Salzinger  was  galled,  galled 


330  •  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

and  furious.  Nor  was  it  until  Von  Berger  had  taken  his 
departure  that  he  felt  he  could  again  breathe  freely. 

Then  had  come  a  letter  by  hand.  It  was  a  letter  for 
Vita,  who  remained  in  his  charge.  But  though  he  read 
the  letter,  carefully  steaming  it  open  and  re-sealing  it  so 
that  detection  was  well-nigh  impossible,  and  its  contents 
proved  satisfactory,  still  his  temper  underwent  little 
betterment. 

The  day  wore  on  filled  with  the  many  duties  which 
Von  Berger  had  demanded  of  him,  and  which  he  almost 
automatically  fulfilled.  He  saw  many  callers.  He  held 
many  consultations.  He  delivered  many  instructions  in 
that  harsh  autocratic  manner  which  he  resented  in  Von 
Berger.  But  it  was  not  until  after  he  had  dined  amply  in 
the  evening,  and  his  gastronomic  senses  had  been  in- 
dulged with  an  amplitude  of  good  wine  and  savory  fare, 
that  he  began  to  forget  the  glacial  frigidity  of  the  man 
who  had  power  to  reduce  his  own  dominating  personality 
to  the  level  of  an  anaemic  lackey. 

After  dinner  he  moved  out  onto  the  terrace  which 
fronted  the  dining-room.  It  was  a  splendid  night  with 
a  bright  full  moon.  It  was  chilly  but  refreshing,  and 
Von  Salzinger,  whatever  else  his  habits  might  be,  loved 
the  fresh  air.  He  paced  the  broad  walk  under  the  moon, 
and  every  now  and  then  his  eyes  were  turned  upon  a 
distant  portion  of  the  upper  part  of  the  mansion,  where 
shone  the  lights  of  Vita's  apartments.  At  last  he  seemed 
to  have  decided  some  momentous  matter,  and  returned 
within  the  house  and  flung  aside  the  heavy  overcoat  he 
was  enveloped  in. 

The  heaviness  of  his  military  figure  was  carefully  toned 
under  the  perfect  lines  of  his  evening  clothes.  But  the 


THE  SWEETNESS  OF  LIFE  331 

rigidity  of  his  square  shoulders  and  back  would  not  be 
denied.  Then,  too,  the  shape  of  his  head.  He  was 
Prussian,  so  Prussian,  and  every  inch  a  soldier  of  the 
Hohenzollern  dynasty. 

He  made  his  way  down  the  long  corridors  which 
led  towards  a  distant  wing  of  the  house,  and  passed  on 
up-stairs. 

Vita's  days  had  become  poignant  with  bitterness  and 
self-reviling.  But  the  despair  in  her  grey  eyes  had 
lessened,  and  all  the  youthful  beauty  had  returned  to 
her  cheeks.  Her  abject  dread  had  given  place  to  a  con- 
dition of  dreary  hope  which  left  her  haunted  only  by  the 
hideous  memory  of  the  price  she  had  yet  to  pay. 

Her  mood  was  one  of  self-abasement  and  self-loathing. 
She  told  herself  that  she  was  purchasing  life,  or  the  chance 
of  it,  with  all  that  was  best  in  her.  Sacrifice  ?  She  had 
told  herself  that  she  was  sacrificing  her  love  for  her 
father's  life.  It  was  so.  She  knew  she  would  sacrifice 
anything  to  safeguard  that.  But  as  time  passed,  and  her 
dejected  mood  gained  ascendancy,  she  began  to  question 
her  purpose  with  a  deplorable  cynicism  that,  in  reality,  was 
no  part  of  her  nature. 

She  reminded  herself  of  the  cowardice  she  knew  to  be 
hers.  How  much  of  the  sacrifice  she  asked  was  for  her 
father,  and  how  much  for  herself  ?  Then  came  the  self- 
castigation.  She  was  afraid  to  die.  She  knew  she  was 
afraid.  And,  in  utter  self-contempt,  she  told  herself  she 
was  flinging  away  the  honest  love  of  a  man,  of  which  she 
could  never  be  worthy,  as  the  price  of  her  life.  Yes,  there 
was  no  denying  the  truth.  She  valued  life — her  miserable 
life — at  a  price  greater  than  anything  else.  Her  love? 


332  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

It  was  a  poor  thing.  It  was  beneath  contempt.  She 
could  sell  herself  to  this  brutal  Prussian  that  she  might 
live  on  to  see  the  sun  rise  for  a  few  more  seasons,  a  few 
more  miserable  years  of  conscious  existence. 

Such  were  her  feelings  as  she  sat  before  the  cheerful 
blaze  of  the  fire  in  her  apartment.  The  evening  had 
closed  in,  her  evening  meal  had  been  brought  her,  and 
finally  cleared  away.  She  had  no  desire  for  occupation. 
There  was  only  thought  left  her — painful,  hideous  thought. 
Everything  had  gone  awry.  All  plans  seemed  to  have 
miscarried.  She,  and  her  father,  and  her  lover  had  been 
out-manoeuvred  by  the  Prussian  machine,  and  now,  now 
there  only  remained  a  sordid  struggle  for  life  itself. 

But  she  was  roused,  as  once  before  she  had  been 
roused,  from  the  depths  of  her  misery  by  the  coming  of 
the  man  whom  she  now  knew  her  whole  future  life  was 
bound  to.  She  heard  the  door  open  and  close.  She  did 
not  turn  from  the  contemplation  of  her  fire.  Why  need 
she  ?  It  was  one  of  her  jailers.  If  it  were  the  women 
she  did  not  desire  to  see  them.  If  it  were  Von  Berger  she 
would  allow  him  no  sight  of  her  misery.  If  it  were  Von 
Salzinger 

"  Vita  1 " 

It  was  Von  Salzinger.  His  manner  was  eager  and 
urgent.  It  also  had  in  it  that  suggestion  of  fear  of  detec- 
tion which  she  had  witnessed  before. 

"  It  is  the  answer  to  your  letter.  I  had  it  this  morn- 
ing, and  would  have  conveyed  it  you  earlier,  but  I  dared 
not  risk  it.  Now  Von  Berger  is  away,  and,  for  the  mo- 
ment, we  are  safe.  So — here  it  is.  Read  it  quickly  and 
tell  me  of  it.  On  it  depends  so  much.  The  future.  Our 
futures.  Your  father's.  Read  it." 


THE  SWEETNESS  OF  LIFE  333 

But  Vita's  mood  permitted  no  sudden  reaction  at  the 
thought  of  that  life  and  liberty  for  which  she  had  bartered 
her  soul.  She  took  the  letter,  and,  before  opening  it,  her 
eyes  searched  the  square  features  of  the  well-dined  man 
before  her.  Her  regard  was  sufficiently  cold. 

"  Where  has  Von  Berger  gone  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  To  Dorby." 

In  a  moment  the  coldness  had  left  Vita's  eyes.  She 
was  caught  again  in  the  hot  tide  of  alarm. 

"  To  Dorby  ?     Have  they  discovered — my  father  ?  " 

The  hard  eyes  of  the  Prussian  lowered  before  the 
woman's  alarm.  Then  his  reply  came,  conveying  a 
momentary  confidence  which  Vita  clung  to. 

"  I  can't  be  sure,"  he  said.  "  But  I  don't  think  so. 
Still  it  is  that  possibility  which  has  brought  me  here  now. 
That,  and  your  letter.  There  must  be  no  delay  if  we  are 
to  get  away.  Von  Berger  has  to  go  elsewhere  before  he 
reaches  Dorby.  He  will  not  reach  there  until  Monday. 
He  will  also  leave  there  on  Monday,  and  be  back  here  on 
Tuesday  morning.  We  must  be  on  the  sea  before  Von 
Berger  reaches  Dorby.  Now — your  letter  Read  it." 

His  final  order  came  sharply.  There  was  no  request 
in  it. 

Vita  tore  it  open.  The  alarm  was  still  in  her  eyes,  al- 
though there  had  been  reassurance  in  Von  Salzinger's 
words. 

For  some  moments  she  read  down  the  two  pages  of  the 
letter.  Then  she  sighed  in  relief. 

"  It  is  all  right,"  she  said,  passing  the  sheets  across  to 
her  companion.  "  Read  it  yourself.  He  will  meet  us  at 
the  cove  on  Sunday  evening.  The  submersible  will  be 
standing  off  to  pick  us  up.  And — the  whole  thing  re- 


334  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

mains  a  secret  between  us.  He  has  merely  told  Mr.  Far- 
low  that  he  is  going." 

If  she  were  relieved  there  was  no  enthusiasm  in  her 
manner.  Safety  was  looming  ahead,  but  the  price  was  no 
less.  The  Prussian's  eyes  were  raised  from  the  letter  and 
a  cold  severity  looked  out  of  them  and  shone  down  upon 
Vita's  unsmiling  features. 

"  It  is  well.  But — you  regret  ?  "  His  gross  lips  pouted 
under  their  severe  compression. 

"Regret?"  Vita  passed  one  delicate  hand  across  her 
brow.  It  was  a  movement  which  expressed  something 
like  unutterable  weariness.  It  was  almost  as  if  she  were 
beyond  caring  for  consequences.  "  It  is  more  than  regret," 
she  said,  and  the  eyes  gazing  up  into  Von  Salzinger's 
were  as  hard  as  his  own. 

The  man  drew  a  whistling  breath.     He  realized. 

"  I  believe  you  hate  me,"  he  cried. 

Vita  shrugged. 

"  Hate  ?     You  are  about  to  give  me  back  my  life." 

"Yes."  The  man  passed  her  back  the  letter.  His 
monosyllable  conveyed  nothing.  It  was  the  expression 
of  one  whose  thoughts  and  feelings  are  entirely  preoc- 
cupied. A  hot  fury  was  surging  through  his  veins.  His 
vanity  was  outraged.  He  wanted  to  pour  out  the  tide  of 
brutal  invective  which  so  naturally  rose  to  his  lips.  But 
he  drove  it  back  under  the  powerful  lash  of  almost  super- 
human restraint. 

"  But  you  do  hate  me,"  he  said,  with  simple  regret  in 
his  heavy  voice.  "  And  I  would  do  anything  to  change 
that  hate.  Why  ?  Why  is  it  ?  It  was  not  always  so. 
You  know  the  discipline  under  which  we  live.  All  I  have 
done  I  was  compelled  to  do.  Had  I  not  obeyed  I  could 


THE  SWEETNESS  OF  LIFE  335 

not  be  here  to  serve  you  now.  Had  I  rebelled,  and  refused 
to  carry  out  my  duty,  what  hope  would  there  be  for  you 
now  ?  None.  Farlow  could  not  save  you.  No  one 
could  save  you  once  you  were  in  the  clutches  of  this 
demon  Von  Berger.  It  is  only  that  I  have  performed  my 
share  in  your  persecution  that  makes  it  possible  to  hold 
you  out  a  hand  of  help.  You  are  hard  on  me — harder 
than  you  have  any  right  to  be.  You  would  say  you  are 
buying  your  life,  I  know.  Well,  do  we  not  buy  every- 
thing in  life  ?  And  do  we  not  have  to  pay  a  price  which 
always  seems  exorbitant?  The  price  you  are  paying; 
what  is  it?  Wifehood.  A  future  cared  for  and  sheltered 
by  a  strong  man's  hand.  Behind  you  a  memory,  a 
memory  of  that  which  could  never  have  been  fulfilled,  be- 
cause you  would  have  been  sacrificed  to  the  discipline  of 
the  country  which  claims  you.  Ach !  it  is  unreasonable. 
It  is  ungenerous.  I  would  give  my  right  hand  for  your 
better  regard." 

But  the  man's  appeal,  his  arguments,  left  Vita  un- 
moved. 

"  Discussion  is  useless,"  she  said  firmly.  "  We  have 
entered  into  an  agreement  which  you  had  power  to  force 
upon  me.  Believe  me,  I  shall  not  be  ungrateful  for  my 
father's  safety  and  my  own  life.  But  it  is  a  business 
agreement  which  makes  no  demand  for  the  modification 
of  any  regard.  If  my  love  is  demanded,  then  you  must 
invoke  supernatural  powers  to  bring  it  about.  For  surely 
no  earthly  pow.er  could  bring  about  such  a  revulsion  of 
my  feelings.  Let  us  keep  to  the  business." 

The  hard  eyes  of  the  man  had  grown  harder,  but  his 
lips  smiled,  displaying  the  strong  white  teeth  behind  them 
sharply  clenched. 


336  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Yes.  To  the  business.  There  is  much.  To-day  I 
have  arranged  those  things  which  I  could  arrange.  It  is 
fortunate  that  your  father  has  appointed  the  one  day 
which  we  must  have  chosen  ourselves.  It  must  be  Sun- 
day night.  Sunday  night  before  Von  Berger  reaches 
Dorby.  Vita,  it  is  a  pleasant  thought  to  me  that  I — I  can 
defeat  this  man.  Ever  since  he  came  to  England  he  has 
treated  me  like  a  conscript.  I  hate  him." 

Vita  watching  him  realized  the  truth.  It  pleased  and 
satisfied  her  that  it  was  so.  To  her  such  animus  between 
these  men  meant  safety. 

"  Yes  ?     Sunday  night  ?  " 

Von  Salzinger  shrugged.     He  understood  her  manner. 

"  Listen,"  he  said  sharply.  "  On  Saturday  evening  at 
6:30  you  must  be  ready  to  get  away.  At  that  hour  you 
must  be  ready,  and  I  will  provide  you  with  a  long  dark 
cloak  for  travelling.  We  shall  go  by  car.  We  dare  not 
risk  any  other  means.  Car  the  whole  way,  and  the 
journey  must  take  us  precisely  the  twenty-four  hours. 
Now  this  is  it.  When  the  moment  comes  I  will  arrange 
that  your  attendants  are  engaged  elsewhere,  and  that  the 
doors  of  the  corridor  are  unfastened.  You  will  slip  out 
and  pass  down  the  long  passage  till  you  come  to  the 
main  staircase.  This  you  will  descend,  and  reach  the 
hall  below.  The  entrance  door  will  be  open.  You  will 
pass  out  and  down  the  drive.  Beyond  the  gates  a  car 
will  be  standing — a  cabriolet.  The  chauffeur  will  be  at 
the  wheel.  Without  a  word  you  will  get  in  the  car.  He 
will  at  once  drive  off.  I  shall  join  you  at  Bath,  where  we 
shall  have  a  very  late  meal." 

"  How  will  you  join  me?  " 

Von  Salzinger  raised  his  brows. 


THE  SWEETNESS  OF  LIFE  337 

"  It  is  simple.  I  am  in  command  here.  My  word  is 
absolute.  Within  ten  minutes  of  your  going  it  will  be 
discovered.  I  arrange  this.  I  shall  be  in  a  fury,  I  shall 
terrify  those  with  me.  There  will  be  three  men.  Among 
them  Johann  Stryj.  I  shall  curse  the  women,  and  then 
set  about  running  you  down.  Each  man  will  be  des- 
patched in  a  car  to  certain  places,  in  directions  you  have 
not  gone.  I  shall  pursue  you  alone.  So  I  shall  come  up 
with  you  at  Bath.  Then  you  will  continue  the  journey 
to  Dorby  with  me.  I  shall  time  it  so  we  reach  the — the 
cove,  eh  ?  at  half-past  six  on  Sunday  evening.  We  shall 
travel  all  night." 

In  spite  of  herself  excitement  was  growing  in  Vita. 
The  prospect  of  the  race  for  liberty  was  alluring  and 
exciting. 

"  And  we  go  straight  for  the  Old  Mill  Cove  ?  " 

"  It  is  so.  This  cove.  Ha,  it  is  a  strange  place  and — 
secret.  It  is  your  secret  and  your  father's.  You  will 
have  to  guide  me."  His  manner  became  reflective. 
"  We  know  so  much  of  the  coast,  yet  we  missed  this 
place.  It  is  strange.  You  know  it  and  your  father,  but 
Von  Berger — no.  So  it  was  that  your  father  escaped. 
It  amuses  me  now.  Still  Von  Berger  does  not  know. 
And  so  we  shall  escape.  Now  write  your  answer  to  that 
letter.  I  will  help.  We  must  have  no  hitch,  for  unless 
we  get  away  at  that  moment — disaster  will  follow." 

Vita  had  finally  thrown  off  her  uncompromising  attitude 
of  coldness.  She  was  alive  with  a  thrilling  excitement. 
The  man's  plans  were  so  simple  and  adequate.  Her  only 
fear  was  Von  Berger's  unexpected  return.  She  had 
moved  to  a  table  where  writing  materials  lay  and  pre- 
pared to  write  her  letter. 


338  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  Von  Berger  will  not  change  his  plans  ? "  she  de- 
manded eagerly. 

"  He  will  not  change  them.  He  has  been  summoned 

to  meet He  is  on  the  sea.  He  has  gone  to  make 

his  report.  Now  write." 

The  next  few  minutes  were  occupied  in  the  writing  of 
Vita's  reply  to  her  father.  It  was  practically  dictated  by 
Von  Salzinger,  as  had  been  her  earlier  letter.  He  left 
her  no  choice  in  what  she  must  say,  and,  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  writing,  read  it  carefully  over,  and  finally 
folded  it  and  sealed  it  himself.  He  looked  on  silently 
while  she  addressed  the  envelope  to  Sir  Andrew  Farlow. 
Then  he  took  possession  of  it  and  placed  it  in  an  inner 
pocket. 

With  the  completion  of  the  letter  his  manner  seemed 
to  undergo  a  change.  The  smoothness,  even  deferential 
atmosphere  of  the  man  merged  into  one  of  sharp  suspicion. 
His  brows  drew  together,  and  a  quick  sidelong  glance 
flashed  in  the  woman's  direction,  and  a  surly  note  sounded 
in  his  next  words. 

"  It  is  a  fool  that  can  trust  a  woman — a  woman  in  love. 
How  do  I  know  that  your  father  will  not  betray  me  to 
this  man,  Ruxton  Farlow  ?  How  do  I  know  that  you 
will  fulfil  your  promise?  You,  a  woman  hating  me,  and 
in  love  with  Farlow.  I  am  mad,  mad  to  risk  it.  You 
hate  me — because  I  would  save  you  and  your  father.  If 
Farlow  knew  there  would  be  no  mercy  for  me.  For  you 
I  am  imperilling  my  life  in  every  direction.  Von  Berger, 
and  all  he  stands  for,  shadows  me  from  behind.  Before 
me  is  a  man  robbed  of  his  love." 

Vita  had  risen  from  the  table.  She  had  turned  to  the 
fire  and  stood  leaning  against  the  great  mantel. 


THE  SWEETNESS  OF  LIFE  339 

"  Your  estimate  of  human  character  need  not  alarm 
you.  Remember,  wanton  treachery  is  almost  as  rare  as 
the  highest  virtues.  Men  and  women  do  not  betray  un- 
less they  can  see  some  gain  ahead.  My  father  needs 
safety  and  security,  not  only  for  himself  but  for  me.  I, 
too,  want  these  things.  Your  conditions  will  be  fulfilled 
to  the  letter  because  we  need  your  aid.  Will  that  satisfy 
you  ?  Is  it  commercial  enough  ?  You  have  set  the  price, 
and  I  have  agreed  to  it.  Nor  am  I  bankrupt.  It  is  an 
agreement  between  us,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  not  set  out 
on  paper,  and  duly  signed  by  witnesses,  makes  it  surely 
the  safer." 

The  man's  hard  eyes  were  fixed  steadily  upon  the 
beautiful  face. 

"  Your  tongue  is  bitter,"  he  said  in  a  deep  guttural 
tone. 

"  But  no  more  bitter  than  my  lot.  Please  go  now. 
Human  endurance  has  its  limits.  If  you  force  me  to 
mine  I  shall  fling  all  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven,  and 
accept  the  fate  marked  out  for  me  by  the  merciless 
tyrants  who  prevail  at  Berlin." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK 

IT  was  the  close  of  a  long  and  busy  day  for  both  of 
them,  and  father  and  son,  in  the  interim  preceding  dinner, 
under  a  bright  moon,  paced  together  the  broad  stone 
paths  of  the  formal  terrace  gardens  of  Dorby  Towers. 
For  Ruxton  the  confined  spaces  of  the  house  were  suffo- 
cating. His  nerves  were  on  edge.  His  father,  with  the 
calm  philosophy  of  his  years,  merely  sought  the  fresh  air 
which  the  work  in  his  office  denied  him,  even  though 
it  possessed  the  damp  chill  of  an  English  autumn  night. 

"  Anybody  else  besides  Caistor  coming  for  the  week- 
end ? "  Sir  Andrew's  sidelong  glance  was  penetrating. 

"  Lordburgh  and  Reginald  Steele.  There  will  be 
others — whom  they  may  choose  to  bring." 

His  father's  scrutiny  was  lost  upon  Ruxton,  who 
seemed  to  have  little  inclination  to  talk.  His  interest  in 
the  week-end  gathering  seemed  of  the  slightest. 

"  Well,  Caistor  and  Steele  will  find  plenty  to  interest 
them,"  Sir  Andrew  went  on.  "  Lordburgh  will  probably 
content  himself  with  the  golf  links." 

"  Lordburgh  will  spend  his  time  at  the  yards,"  Rux- 
ton said.  Then  he  displayed  an  increased  interest. 
"  He's  a  Foreign  Secretary  who  sees  further  than  mere 
international  policies.  He's  a  man  who  believes  that  an 
adequate  foreign  policy  can  only  be  built  on  the  founda- 
tions of  a  sound  internal  economic  basis.  Caistor  and 


RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK  341 

Steele  are  armament  men  of  diverging  opinions.  Caistor 
pins  his  faith  to  weight  of  metal  in  surface  craft,  while 
Steele  places  the  submarine  before  the  heaviest  guns. 
Both  have  sound  enough  reasoning,  but,  as  I  said,  they 
are  armament  men.  They  cannot  conceive  that  a  non- 
military  defence  can  ever  offer  sound  possibilities.  Both 
have  been  shaken  up  by  the  mercantile  submersible 
project.  But  I  think  Lordburgh  is  the  more  impressed 
by  it." 

"  I  should  have  preferred  their  coming  next  week," 
Sir  Andrew  went  on,  a  little  wearily.  "  We  should  be 
under  full  work  then.  We  are  nearly  clear  now,  and  the 
naval  mechanics  are  replacing  the  civil  men  next  week. 
It's  been  hard  work  for  us  all.  I  shall  be  glad  when 
everything  has  settled  down  again." 

Ruxton  glanced  round  at  the  speaker.  There  was  a 
flash  of  anxiety  in  his  eyes.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  heard  his  father  complain  of  the  arduous  nature  of 
his  work.  A  wave  of  contrition  swept  over  him. 

"  I  feel  I've  left  too  much  on  your  shoulders,  Dad," 
he  exclaimed.  "I'm  afraid  I've  been  very  selfish.  I've 
burdened  you  with  the  responsibility  of  this  thing,  and 
given  you  no  support.  Somehow,  I  never  thought — and 
you  have  never  complained." 

"  Tut,  tut,  boy,"  his  father  retorted,  in  his  gruff,  hearty 
way.  "  I  have  yet  to  learn  that  I  am  too  old  for  my 
work.  It's  work  I've  been  born  and  bred  to.  Without 
it  I  should  be  a  decaying  man.  Don't  think  of  it.  Your 
work  is  far  more  responsible,  far  more  harassing.  You 
are  among  those  active  thinkers  whose  life's  work  is  the 
welfare  of  our  country.  Leave  me  to  Dorby.  Mark  out 
the  work  you  demand  from  me,  and  rest  assured  it  will 


342  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

be  thoroughly  carried  out.  I  haven't  the  imaginative 
brain  that  sees  into  the  future  and  formulates  plans 
whereby  that  future  may  be  safeguarded.  But  I  can 
build  any  fleet  you  can  plan — single-handed." 

There  was  pride  and  admiration  in  the  smile  with 
which  Ruxton  listened  to  his  father's  words.  But  the 
man  was  serious.  He  knew  his  limitations,  and  he  also 
knew  his  capacity.  Besides,  he  had  no  intention  of  ad- 
mitting the  strain  of  the  work  in  hand. 

Ruxton  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  not  even  doing  that,  Dad,"  he  protested.  "  My 
time's  given  up  to  other  affairs.  I've  simply  abandoned 
everything  for  one  selfish  purpose." 

Again  came  his  father's  sidelong  glance. 

"Selfish?" 

"  Yes ;  Vita.  I  must  find  her.  I  must  help  her.  I 
must  unravel  the  mystery  of  it  all,  or — what  is  the  use 
of  all  that  I  had  hoped  to  achieve  ?  Dad,  I  no  longer 
blind  myself.  I  have  only  just  awakened  to  life.  All 
the  hopes  and  longings  of  the  past  belong  to  a  time 
when  I  still  remained  slumbering  to  the  real  meaning 
of  life.  Now,  compared  with  the  meaning  of  life  which 
I  have  just  awakened  to,  they  are  mere  cold,  meaning- 
less products  of  the  brain.  They  are  nothing,  simply 
nothing  to  this  new  vista  which  has  just  opened  out  to 
me.  I  doubt  if  you'll  understand,  if  any  one  can  under- 
stand but  myself." 

"No?"  There  was  that  twinkling  smile  in  the  old 
man's  eyes. 

"  No.  There  is  only  one  thought  in  me  now.  I  must 
save  Vita  ;  I  must  save  Vita  from  our  enemies.  Perhaps, 
even,  I  must  save  her  from  herself.  How  can  I  expect 


RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK  343 

any  one  to  understand  all  it  means  to  me,  how  absurd 
seem  all  those  other  things  which  I  had  counted  as  vital?" 

"  And  yet  I  loved  your  mother." 

Ruxton  walked  on  a  few  steps  without  reply.  A  flush 
had  mounted  to  his  handsome  cheeks.  Then  he  abruptly 
paused,  and  in  the  depths  of  his  eyes  was  a  shamefaced  smile. 

"I'm, sorry,  Dad,"  he  cried.  "Forgive  the  egoism  of 
a  man — in  love." 

His  father's  smiling  eyes  were  full  of  a  deep  sympathy. 

"  No,  no,  boy ;  no  apologies.  You  are  no  different 
from  the  rest  of  us.  We  all  feel  the  same  at  some  time 
in  our  lives,  and  we  all  believe  no  one  else  has  ever  felt 
as  we  do.  Work  out  your  plans,  boy.  Forget  Dorby ; 
forget  everything  else  for  the  time.  Give  your  whole 
heart  and  time  to  straightening  out  the  tangle  your  love 
affairs  seem  to  be  in.  And  when  you  have  succeeded, 
bring  her  to  me.  For  the  rest,  I  am  your  deputy  in  the 
work  which  must  still  go  on ;  and,  believe  me,  I  shall 
not  fail  you.  There  goes  the  gong." 

The  deep  note  of  the  gong  seemed  to  rise  out  of  its 
metal  bowels ;  it  crescendoed,  and  finally  died  away. 
The  two  men  passed  silently  into  the  house  and  removed 
their  light  overcoats.  Ruxton's  emotion  was  too  deep 
for  words.  His  father's  sympathy  and  loyalty  were  al- 
most overpowering  to  a  nature  as  sensitive  as  his.  He 
wanted  to  tell  him  all  he  felt.  He  wanted  to  pour  out  his 
gratitude.  He  wanted  to  show  him  something  of  the 
great  love  he  had  always  borne  him.  But  it  was  impos- 
sible. He  did  none  of  these  things  because  they  were 
men — men  of  a  temperament  and  schooling  that  made 
such  a  display  impossible.  So,  in  silence,  they  prepared 
to  make  their  way  to  the  dining-room. 


344  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

But  affairs  were  busier  than  either  of  them  knew.  In 
a  very  few  minutes  every  other  emotion  became  lost  in 
the  surge  of  events. 

Just  as  they  were  about  to  leave  the  hall  a  man-servant 
appeared  from  the  direction  of  the  servants'  quarters. 
He  was  about  to  pass  up-stairs,  bearing  a  tray.  The 
quick  eyes  of  Sir  Andrew  observed  the  pile  of  letters  he 
was  carrying  up  to  the  library.  Without  regard  for  the 
moment  he  stayed  him. 

"  Is  that  the  post  just  in?"  he  demanded. 

The  man  promptly  returned. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Ah,  let  me  see." 

The  letters  were  divided  into  two  small  piles  :  those 
that  were  addressed  to  Sir  Andrew,  and  those  for  his  son. 
Sir  Andrew  picked  his  up.  He  glanced  at  the  super- 
scription on  each  envelope,  and  dealt  them  back  on  the 
tray  as  though  he  were  dealing  playing-cards.  At  the 
last  one  he  paused.  It  was  the  largest  envelope. 

"  That  will  do,"  he  said,  and  glanced  across  at  Ruxton 
as  the  man  passed  on  up  the  staircase. 

He  tore  the  envelope  open  and  stood  with  the  contents 
of  it  poised  in  his  hand. 

"  Ruxton." 

The  younger  man  turned  from  the  fireplace.  His  eyes 
were  expectant.  His  father's  tone  had  been  sharp. 

"  Yes." 

"You'd  better  deal  with  this."  He  handed  him  the 
lesser  envelope,  which  had  been  enclosed  in  the  other. 

Ruxton  took  it  and  glanced  at  it.  His  father's  eyes 
were  watching  him  closely ;  they  were  twinkling. 

"  It  is  tempting,  eh  ?  " 


RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK  345 

Ruxton  shook  his  head. 

"  But  Vita  trusts  us,"  he  said  simply. 

Once  again  Ruxton  found  himself  looking  into  the 
wide  eyes  and  remarkable  face  of  Prince  von  Hertzwohl. 
With  the  simple  courtesy  which  was  so  much  a  part  of 
him,  the  latter  had  thrust  his  guest  into  the  only  chair 
his  uninviting  quarters  afforded.  For  himself,  he  was 
more  than  content  with  the  doubtful  flock  bed,  with  its 
frowsy  patchwork  quilt.  The  chair  creaked  under  Rux- 
ton's weight,  but  he  said  no  word.  He  was  waiting, 
waiting  while  the  other  read  the  letter  he  had  just  put 
into  his  hands. 

Ruxton  was  disguised  in  a  suit  of  clothes  that  left  noth- 
ing to  be  desired.  Mrs.  Clark,  the  landlady,  could  have 
possessed  no  doubts  as  to  his  calling.  She  knew  the 
type  of  mechanic  too  well.  Von  Hertzwohl  was  still  ar- 
rayed in  his  work-soiled  suit,  which  his  intellectual  fea- 
tures denied  as  the  yellow  lamp-rays  fell  upon  them. 
Ruxton's  outward  seeming  was  calm,  but  inwardly  his 
active  thoughts  were  teeming.  The  opportunity  which 
otherwise  must  have  been  made  had  been  afforded  him 
without  his  personal  effort.  He  knew  that  the  crisis  in 
all  his  plans  had  arrived.  It  was  for  him  to  turn  the 
course  of  affairs  in  his  own  favor,  or  accept  almost  certain 
defeat.  So  he  waited,  coordinating  every  mental  force 
he  could  make  available. 

It  was  a  serious,  almost  pathetic  pair  of  eyes  which 
were  at  last  raised  from  the  letter,  which  was  in  Vita's 
handwriting.  There  was  something  almost  like  dismay 
in  their  wide  depths  as  they  encountered  the  steady  gaze 
of  Ruxton's.  It  was  a  moment  of  grave  embarrassment 


346  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

— but  only  for  Von  Hertzwohl.  He  felt  like  a  man 
hunted  before  the  gaze  of  the  younger  man's  dark  eyes. 

But  Ruxton  had  no  desire  to  discompose  him.  His 
mind  was  clear,  his  course  marked  out.  He  saw  with 
perfect  understanding  the  only  road  by  which  he  could 
achieve  his  end.  The  night  when,  in  the  midst  of  all  his 
doubts  and  difficulties,  he  had  suddenly  caught  a  glimpse 
of  daylight,  he  had  realized  that  Vita's  father  sat  under 
pledge  to  his  daughter.  The  nature  of  that  pledge  was 
difficult  to  appraise  definitely,  but  it  was  obviously  di- 
rected towards  secrecy  to  which  he  must  not  be  admitted. 
His  hope  lay  in  admitting  its  inviolability. 

"  I  want  you  to  listen  to  me,  Prince,  for  some  mo- 
ments," he  began  at  once.  "  I  have  one  or  two  things 
to  put  before  you,  simply  and  straightforwardly.  In  do- 
ing so  I  want  you  to  realize  my  motive.  I  have  told  you, 
her  father,  of  my  love  for  Vita.  That  love  burns  as 
deeply  in  my  soul  for  her  now  as  it  has  done  ever  since  I 
first  met  her.  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  fighting  for 
that  love  now,  that  I  shall  continue  to  fight  for  it  so  long 
as  I  have  the  power.  Nothing  will  deter  me ;  nothing 
our  enemies  can  do,  nothing  Vita  can  say,  short  of  a 
direct  dismissal.  This  is  my  motive,  simple  and  honest. 
I  have  not  come  here  to  ask  you  the  contents  of  your  let- 
ter from  her.  I  do  not  want  to  know  them.  I  have  not 
come  here  to  press  you  in  any  direction  which  your 
honor,  your  loyalty  to  your  daughter  denies.  I  have 
come  here  to  tell  you  the  things  I  know,  and  the  things  I 
believe,  without  exaggeration,  and  to  obtain  your  consent 
to  a  small  favor,  which,  in  common  fairness,  you  cannot 
deny  me." 

The  embarrassment  in  the  deep,  shining  eyes  beneath 


RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK  347 

the  shaggy  grey  brows  was  growing.  To  Ruxton  they 
were  almost  a  child's  eyes,  so  simple  and  earnest,  and  so 
full  of  unconcealed  trouble. 

"  It  is  an  ominous  prelude,"  the  Pole  replied,  with  a 
poor  attempt  at  a  smile. 

"  But  not  so  ominous  as  the  denouement  which,  I  fear, 
is  likely  to  come  when  you  attempt  to  leave  these  shores." 

Ruxton's  retort  came  with  a  quiet  emphasis  and  direct- 
ness which  completely  took  the  other  aback. 

"  I  do  not  see Is  that  a  threat,  Mr.  Farlow  ?  "  All 

the  childlike  trouble  had  vanished  from  the  man's  lumi- 
nous eyes.  They  were  shining  with  a  definite  challenge 
which  revealed  the  ready  spirit  of  the  man,  which  Vita 
always  told  of. 

Ruxton  smiled. 

"  Not  from  me,  sir." 

"  Then  from  whom  ?  "     The  words  were  incisive. 

"  From  your — our  enemies  across  the  water." 

All  the  fire  had  departed  out  of  Von  Hertzwohl's  eyes  ; 
only  was  there  interest  in  them. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  simply. 

Ruxton  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  There  is  so  little — and  yet,  to  me,  so  much  to  tell.  I 
cannot  force  my  line  of  argument  upon  you,  because  it 
is  less  argument  than  conviction.  I  can  only  tell  you 
those  things  which  I  know,  and  assure  you  of  my  con- 
viction." 

The  Prince  inclined  his  head  in  a  non-committal 
manner. 

"This  is  the  second  letter  you  have  had  from  Vita,  in 
her  handwriting,  and  addressed  from  her  home.  These 
letters  have  come  through  my  father,  just  as  you  have 


348  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

received  them.  I  am  prepared  to  believe  Vita  has 
written  them,  but  she  has  not  written  them  from  Red- 
withy.  That  I  can  swear  to.  Vita  has  not  been  near 
Redwithy  since  the  day  of  your  arrival  here." 

"  And  that  is— true  ?  " 

There  was  a  slight  change  in  the  Prince's  manner,  but 
it  was  an  undefinable  change. 

"  I  will  stake  my  honor  upon  it.  Now,"  Ruxton  went 
on  after  a  fractional  pause,  "  let  us  leave  that.  It  could 
be  explained — if  for  some  inscrutable  reason  she  wished 
to  avoid  me.  Let  me  point  something  else.  When  I 
came  up  here  to  meet  you  on  your  arrival  .1  left  Vita, 
who  had  promised  ardently  to  be  my  wife,  waiting,  in  a 
fever  of  apprehension,  for  a  message  from  me  of  your 
safe  arrival.  That  message  was  promptly  sent,  and  it 
reached  Redwithy.  But  before  it  arrived  Vita  had  left 
her  home  with  her  maid,  Francella,  in  a  strange  motor- 
car, for  a  destination  unnamed.  And  yet  in  a  perfect 
fever  of  anxiety  she  had  been  awaiting  that  message. 
One  moment,"  as  the  old  man,  with  eyes  wide  with  as- 
tonishment, was  about  to  break  in.  "  When  I  arrived  at 
Redwithy  that  message  was  lying  amongst  a  pile  of 
correspondence,  all  of  which  had  been  secretly  opened 
and  re-sealed.  Would  Vita  have  arranged  for  that  even 
if  she  wished  to  avoid  me?  Would  she  not  simply  have 
written  me  a  note  of  dismissal  ?  It  is  the  commonest  of 
common  sense."  He  paused,  with  brows  raised  ques- 
tioningly.  "  Now  come  these  letters  to  you,  sir,"  he 
went  on  a  moment  later.  "  I  do  not  know  their  con- 
tents ;  I  do  not  wish  to  know  them.  But  they  prove  she 
is  aware  of  your  safe  arrival.  And  I  judge  they  are  urg- 
ing you  to  leave  the  country,  since  you  expressed  no 


RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK  349 

idea  of  doing  so  till  you  received  the  first  letter.  Now, 
sir,  one  last  word  and  I  have  told  you  all  I  know  and  all 
I  believe.  Either  those  letters  are  forgeries  or  they  are 
written  by  Vita  under  pressure.  Vita  is  aware  you  are 
here  at  Dorby.  Therefore  she  has  been  told,  for  I  do 
not  believe  she  has  seen  my  message.  She  has  com- 
municated with  you  by  the  only  means  either  she  or  any 
one  else  could  think  of — through  my  father.  She  does 
not  know  where  you  are,  so  she  cannot  be  forced  to  be- 
tray you.  But  she  can  be  forced  to  decoy  you,  or  you 
can  be  decoyed  in  her  name.  Prince,  a  trick  is  being 
played — a  clever  trick  ;  and  my  conviction  of  it  is  all  the 
greater,  since  I  would  stake  my  life  on  Vita's  loyalty  to 
you — and  to  me." 

The  Prince  remained  silent  for  some  moments.  Rux- 
ton  had  risen  from  his  protesting  chair  and  moved  across 
the  room.  He  refrained  from  even  glancing  in  the  old 
man's  direction.  He  wanted  him  to  have  time.  He 
wanted  to  exercise  no  moral  influence  by  appearing  to 
await  urgently  his  reply. 

He  had  outlined  the  plain  facts  without  studied  effect. 
The  whole  purpose  of  his  visit  was  still  to  be  achieved. 

He  turned  at  last  and  came  back  to  his  chair  as  the 
other  cleared  his  throat. 

"  There  is  sense — common  sense  in  what  you  say." 
The  big  eyes  of  the  man  were  clear  and  luminous,  but 
they  were  not  looking  at  his  visitor.  They  were  gazing 
at  the  oil-lamp  on  the  table.  "  But  you  have  not  read 
Vita's  letters,  or  you  would  see  that  much  of  your  state- 
ment becomes  impossible.  I  have  not  the  right  to  show 
you  those  letters,  therefore  you  must  accept,  or  not,  what 
I  say.  I  assure  you  if  there  is  a  trick,  or  plot,  it  is  so 


350  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

deeply  laid  that  Vita  cannot  see  it ;  and,  in  view  of  her 
letters,  neither  can  I.  Had  I  not  received  her  letters  I 
could  have  accepted  your  beliefs,  but  those  letters  put 
the  idea  beyond  possibility.  Mr.  Farlow,  I  am  sorry.  I 
could  think  of  no  greater  delight,  or  honor,  than  having 
you  for  my  son.  If  what  Vita  has  done,  if  her  course  has 
been  arranged  with  a  view  to  breaking  with  you,  then  I 
can  only  say  I  regret  more  deeply  than  you  can  ever 
dream.  All  you  have  done,  and  are  doing,  and  have 
dared  in  my  interests  have  endeared  you  to  an  old 
man's  heart  just  as  surely  as  though  you  were  my  son. 
It  is  only  very,  very  rarely  that  men  meet  men.  In  you 
and  your  father  I  have  been  doubly  fortunate.  Will  you 
believe  me  when  I  say  it  ?  But  for  the  rest  it  is  not  for 
me  to  decide.  Your  love  for  my  daughter  I  realize  is 
deep  and  sincere.  It  is  for  you  two  to  settle  it.  But 
that  she  is  in  the  hands  of  our  enemies  I  truly  and  sen- 
sibly cannot  believe.  I  assure  you  there  is  no  hint  of  it 
in  her  letters.  One  final  word.  You  fear  that  I  am  run- 
ning headlong  into  a  trap.  Do  not  fear  for  me.  I  have 
none.  My  submersible  will  convey  me  to  safety  as  it  has 
done  before." 

The  old  man's  words,  so  kindly  spoken,  so  full  of  re- 
gard, and  loyalty  and  courage,  came  without  any  shock 
or  disappointment  to  the  other.  Not  a  muscle  of  his 
strong  face  moved.  Nor  was  there  a  shadow  of  change 
from  the  determination  in  his  dark  eyes.  When  he 
began  to  speak,  however,  a  dawn  of  a  smile  grew  in 
them.  It  was  a  smile  of  confidence.  The  attitude  of  the 
other  had  made  his  purpose  a  shade  easier. 

"  Then,  in  face  of  my  beliefs,  you  will  go,  Prince  ?  "  he 
asked. 


RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK  351 

The  direct  challenge  seemed  to  slightly  disconcert  the 
other.  Von  Hertzwohl  had  spoken  the  truth  when  he 
said  that  his  regard  for  Ruxton  had  become  as  that  of  a 
parent.  He  felt  that  his  reply  must  hurt  him. 

"  It  must  be,"  he  said.  Then  he  endeavored  to  soften 
his  decision.  "  It  is  best  so.  Best  for  our  work  ;  for  you  ; 
for — Vita.  Ach  1  I  would  like  to  tell  you  all  I  have  in 
here " — he  tapped  his  broad  brow  with  a  forefinger. 
"  But  I  cannot.  I  may  not.  Dorby  has  been  a  haven  to 
me,  and  I  longed  to  be  near  and  witness  the  growth  of 
that  work  which  is  to  make  impossible  the  vile  cruelty  of 
men,  all  the  horrors  of  an  indefensible  slaughter.  I  told 
myself  I  would  sit  here  and  see  my  dream  slowly,  step  by 
step,  fulfilled.  I  said  that  you  and  your  father  were  the 
laboring  genius  setting  up  the  defence  which  was  to  serve 
humanity  in  the  days  to  come.  And  in  the  pride  and  joy 
of  my  heart  I  told  myself  that  mine  was  the  brain  that  had 
conceived  this  merciful  weapon,  which  I  should  watch 
grow  to  its  final  triumph.  But  now  I  know  that  it  is  not 
so.  I  may  not  witness  the  triumph  of  my  labor  here, 
where  it  is  to  be  achieved.  My  presence  adds  jeopardy 
to  it.  It  adds  jeopardy  to  you  all.  It  must  not  be.  I 
have  made  my  mind  up.  I  must  go." 

Ruxton  inclined  his  head  as  though  in  a  measure  of 
agreement. 

"  If  it  can  be  done  in  safety  perhaps  it  is  as  well,"  he 
said. 

"  Safety  ?  "  The  wide  eyes  shining  beneath  the  shaggy 
white  brows  were  smiling  and  full  of  a  boyish  delight  at 
the  thought  of  adventure.  "  Show  me.  How  can  it  be 
otherwise  ?  Have  we  not  held  the  secret  of  our  landing? 
Who  is  to  know  the  secrets  of  our  cove  ?  The  tides — is 


352  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

there  a  Teuton  spy  who  would  face  the  entrance  of  that 
cove  and  believe  that  it  is  free  to  us  to  enter  or  leave  it  at 
will  ?  No  one  would  believe  it  could  serve  a  landing." 

"  No.     And  you  will  go  that  way  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  shall  leave  on  Sunday  night.  The  tide  will 
serve  us  at  half-past  six.  It  is  then  dark." 

The  old  man's  spirits  were  rising  at  the  thought  of 
cheating  his  enemies.  His  eyes  were  full  of  guileless  de- 
light. Ruxton  was  regarding  him  with  something  of  the 
same  spirit  lighting  his  own  smiling  eyes. 

"  It  would  seem  safe  enough.  I  can  offer  no  objection. 
And  yet " 

"  Ach  !  you  still  fear  for  me,"  cried  the  other  impulsively. 
"  It  is  the  obstinate  English  in  you.  Yes,  yes.  That 
temperament.  You  bite  hard  and  will  not  let  go.  So." 

But  Ruxton  suddenly  bestirred  himself.  He  passed  the 
simple  levity  of  the  other  by.  His  eyes  had  become  serious. 

"  Look  at  it  my  way,  sir,"  he  said  in  a  deep,  urgent 
tone.  "  I  have  told  you  all  I  feel  and  fear.  Suppose  it 
was  my  own  father,  for  some  day  I  hope  and  believe  you 
will  become  my  other  father.  Can  you  not  see  all  it 
means  to  me — your  safety  ?  I  feel  you  are  my  trust,  and 
I  dare  not  risk  unduly.  Will  you  grant  me  a  favor,  sir — 
a  trifling  favor  from  your  point  of  view  ?  Allow  me  to 
take  such  measures  to  safeguard  your  going  as  I  see  fit. 
You  shall  not  be  made  aware  of  that  safeguarding,  I 
promise  you — except  in  case  of  the  treachery  I  anticipate. 
I  shall  not  interfere  with  any  plan  you  may  have  made. 
I  will,  as  our  naval  men  say,  '  carry  on '  and  '  stand  by,' 
unseen  by  you  and  by  our  enemies — unless  danger 
threatens  you.  It  is  not  much  to  ask,  and  it  means  so 
much  to  me." 


RUXTON  WINS  A  TRICK  353 

The  Prince's  smile  was  very  gentle  as  he  watched  the 
eager  face  of  the  other.  The  genuine  anxiety  of  Ruxton 
appealed  to  him  in  a  degree  which  was  only  reached  out 
of  his  own  deep  regard.  From  any  other  such  an  appeal 
might  have  been  met  with  ridicule.  But  in  Ruxton  it  be- 
came something  to  be  delighted  in. 

"  Have  your  way,"  he  cried  cordially.  "  Do  as  you 
will,  and  I  thank  you  from  my  heart  for  your  solicitude. 
But  it  is  needless.  Believe  me,  it  is  needless." 

But  Ruxton  ignored  his  comment.  His  sanction  was 
all  he  needed. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said  simply.  "  Have  you  given 
your  man  his  orders  for  the  submersible  ?  " 

The  Prince  glanced  down  at  his  letter  unconsciously. 

"  No,"  he  said  ;  "  not  yet." 

And  Ruxton  understood  that  his  letter  had  decided  the 
time  of  departure  for  him. 

"  May  I  convey  them,  Prince  ?  " 

"  Why?"     The  smiling  eyes  were  keenly  questioning. 

Ruxton  laughed. 

"  Because  I  would  like  to  make  a  small  arrangement 
with  him,  which  will  in  no  way  interfere  with  any  orders 
you  may  give  him." 

"  I  see."  The  Prince  was  silent  for  some  moments, 
pondering  deeply.  Then,  quite  abruptly,  he  seemed  to 
reach  a  decision.  "  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  will  send  him 
his  orders  in  writing,  with  permission  to  receive  certain 
instructions  from  you.  But  my  orders  must  be  obeyed 
implicitly.  Remember  that.  You  must  not  change  them 
in  one  single  detail.  Your  word  of  honor,  and  I  will 
thank  you  for  conveying  them." 

"  My  word  of  honor,"  said  Ruxton  solemnly. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
THE  WEEK-END  BEGINS 

VITA  stood  up.  The  swift  rise  and  fall  of  her  bosom 
bespoke  an  emotion  which  found  added  reflection  in  the 
light  of  her  beautiful  grey  eyes.  Her  attitude  was  tense. 
It  was  full  of  that  suggestion  of  urgency  which  straining 
ears  ever  convey.  She  was  listening.  And  every  muscle 
of  her  fair  body  was  tuned  to  the  pitch  of  her  nerves. 

Her  eyes  were  upon  the  face  of  a  small  brass  lantern 
clock.  The  figures  on  the  dial  were  indistinct  in  the  arti- 
ficial light,  but  she  read  them  with  ease  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  emotion  stirring  her.  The  dull  metal 
hands  were  almost  together.  It  was  on  the  stroke  of 
half-past  six. 

Her  masses  of  red-gold  hair  were  completely  hidden 
under  a  brimless  hat,  which  sank  low  upon  her  head.  A 
streaming  veil  fell  to  her  shoulders,  completely  covering 
her  hat,  and  ready  to  be  secured  closely  about  the  fair 
oval  of  her  anxious  face.  Her  costume  was  a  stout  dark 
coat  and  skirt  which  displayed  to  perfection  the  beauty 
of  her  tall  figure.  Across  the  back  of  a  chair  lay  a  heavy 
overcoat  of  semi-military  fashioning.  It  was  thick  and 
warm.  It  was  a  man's  coat. 

The  moments  ticked  away.  Vita  made  no  movement. 
The  room  was  still ;  a  deathly  silence  reigned  throughout 
the  house.  And  yet,  to  the  waiting  woman,  a  hundred 


THE  WEEK-END  BEGINS  355 

ominous  sounds  blended  with  the  solemn  ticking  of  the 
clock.  The  long  hand  was  within  the  smallest  fraction 
of  the  half- hour  point.  At  last  she  raised  one  long  gloved 
hand,  and  the  slim  fingers  were  pressed  to  the  temples 
hidden  under  the  enveloping  hat.  Her  hand  was  trem- 
bling. 

When  she  removed  her  fingers  it  was  with  a  gesture  of 
impatience.  And  the  gesture  was  followed  by  swift 
movement.  She  seized  the  overcoat  and  flung  it  across 
her  arm,  picked  up  a  small  hand-bag  and  moved  towards 
the  door.  Again  she  paused.  Her  hand  was  on  the 
knob  of  the  door.  She  turned  it  softly  and  gently  pulled 
the  door  ajar.  Her  eyes  sought  the  crack. 

Lights  were  burning  beyond  in  the  wide  hallway. 
All  was  still,  silent ;  and  a  deep  sigh  as  of  relaxing  nerves 
escaped  her.  She  opened  the  door  wider.  It  creaked, 
and  her  fine  brows  drew  together  in  anxiety.  Then  they 
smoothed  again  as  the  creaking  ceased.  Almost  imper- 
ceptibly the  opening  widened.  Then,  in  a  twinkling  it 
seemed,  she  had  vanished,  and  the  room  was  left  empty. 

As  she  went  a  door  opened  at  the  far  end  of  the  room 
she  had  left,  and  a  woman's  dark  face  appeared  round  it. 
For  a  moment  she  surveyed  the  empty  apartment.  Then 
she  smiled  softly.  A  moment  later  the  face  was  with- 
drawn and  the  door  reclosed. 

A  creaking  stair  set  panic  raging  through  Vita's  heart. 
The  great  staircase  was  old — so  old.  She  stood,  scarcely 
daring  to  breathe,  wondering  in  what  direction  the  be- 
trayal would  display  itself.  The  moments  passed  and  no 
sign  was  given.  She  moved  again,  and,  in  a  fever  of  ap- 
prehension, she  left  the  step  and  essayed  another. 


356  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

This  time  there  was  no  alarm.  She  passed  on  down 
the  stairs,  swiftly,  stealthily.  Only  the  dainty  rustle  of 
her  skirts  betrayed  her  movements.  This  she  gave  no 
heed  to.  It  was  always  with  her.  Therefore  it  possessed 
no  significance.  The  bottom  of  the  great  oak  staircase 
was  reached.  Her  breathing  was  hurried,  not  with  ex- 
ertion, but  as  a  result  of  the  nervous  tension.  She  was 
relying  on  a  man's  word — a  Prussian's.  She  believed  it 
honest,  but' A  swift  glance  about  the  wide  hall- 
place,  and,  for  a  moment,  her  nerves  eased.  The  man 
was  proving  as  good  as  his  word.  The  doors  into  the 
various  apartments  were  closed.  The  hall  was  empty. 

Fresh  courage  flowed  through  her  veins.  She  tiptoed 
across  the  polished  marble,  avoiding  the  loose  rugs  lest  a 
slip  might  betray  her.  Then,  in  the  centre  of  it,  she 
stopped  dead,  her  heart  pounding  out  the  alarm  which 
had  suddenly  possessed  her.  Voices,  men's  voices,  had 
reached  her.  And  they  came  from  immediately  beyond 
a  pair  of  heavy  folding  doors.  She  listened.  The  sound 
was  slightly  deadened.  The  doors  made  it  impossible  to 
hear  the  words. 

Quite  suddenly  she  realized  that  there  was  not  a  mo- 
ment to  lose.  Without  any  further  hesitation  she  flitted 
like  a  ghost,  silently,  towards  the  glass  swing-doors  which 
opened  upon  the  entrance  doors. 

She  thrust  them  apart.  She  passed  down  half  a  dozen 
wide,  shallow  steps.  The  outer  doors  yielded  to  her 
hand.  Then  she  breathed  the  fresh,  chill  night  air  of  the 
valley  beyond.  It  was  good,  so  good.  It  was  the  first 
breath  of  freedom.  Deeply,  deeply,  she  drank  in  the  de- 
light of  it. 

As  the  door  swung  gently  to  behind  her,  the  folding 


THE  WEEK-END  BEGINS  357 

doors  of  the  apartment  in  which  had  sounded  the  men's 
voices  were  thrust  apart.  Von  Salzinger  and  Johann 
Stryj  stood  framed  in  the  archway. 

"  See,  there  is  movement  in  the  glass  doors,"  observed 
Von  Salzinger.  "  She  has  gone." 

"  I  heard  her,"  was  the  Secret  Service  man's  cool  reply. 

Vita  had  paused  only  to  put  on  the  coat.  Then,  with 
skirts  slightly  raised,  she  sped  on  down  the  drive  at  some- 
thing approaching  a  run.  It  was  not  easy  in  the  pitch 
black  of  the  night.  But  fear  of  pursuit  lent  her  added 
power,  and,  surmounting  every  difficulty,  she  reached  the 
iron  gateway. 

She  breathed  a  great  relief.  The  gates  were  standing 
open,  and,  away  beyond,  and  to  the  right,  she  beheld  the 
reflection  of  light  upon  the  roadway. 

She  hurried  towards  it.  An  overwhelming  flood  of 
gratitude  and  thankfulness  swept  over  her.  Von  Salz- 
inger was  proving  his  loyalty.  Every  detail  was  work- 
ing out  as  he  had  promised.  Liberty  and  Life.  They 
were  sweet  enough.  And  even  the  price  lost  something 
of  its  horror  under  her  new  emotion. 

The  car  was  a  large  one.  It  carried  three  great  head- 
lights. The  chauffeur  was  at  his  wheel,  and  the  purr  of 
the  running  engines  was  music  to  her  ears.  The  door 
stood  wide  open,  and,  without  demur,  without  word,  or  a 
single  qualm  of  fear,  she  stepped  within  and  closed  it 
after  her.  Instantly  the  car  rolled  away. 

A  figure  moved  from  the  dark  window  of  the  unlit 
lodge.  It  crossed  the  little  room  and  stood  against  the 
wall.  Then  a  groping  hand  pressed  a  button,  and  in  the 
great  hall  of  the  mansion  the  peal  of  an  electric  bell  rang 
out. 


358  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  week-end  party  had  gathered.  Saturday  had 
been  spent  by  the  three  principal  guests  under  Ruxton 
and  his  father's  guidance  at  the  yards.  But  Ruxton 
had  been  an  unimportant  member  of  the  party  for  the 
moment.  Here  in  the  great  works  Sir  Andrew  stood 
supreme.  His  was  the  chief  control.  His  was  the  gen- 
ius of  organization.  And  to  him  these  men,  Sir  Joseph 
Caistor,  Sir  Reginald  Steele,  and  the  Marquis  of  Lord- 
burgh,  looked  for  their  information  upon  the  new  con- 
structions. 

It  had  been  a  day  to  remember  for  Sir  Andrew. 
These  brilliant  technical  men  were  exacting.  Their 
trained,  searching  minds  displayed  a  wonderful  grasp 
of  detail.  There  seemed  to  be  no  point  too  small  for 
their  consideration.  Thus  the  day  had  to  be  entirely 
given  up  to  them.  Nor  did  Sir  Andrew  begrudge  it. 
He  was  a  great  shipmaster,  and  his  pride  in  his  yards, 
and  all  they  meant  in  the  country's  labors,  found  him 
with  an  almost  childlike  delight  in  his  guests'  interest 
and  understanding. 

Ruxton  stood  aloof.  His  thoughts  and  energies  were 
concentrated  elsewhere.  Frequently  he  absented  himself 
for  long  stretches  of  time  together.  Nor  was  it  until 
their  naval  guests  had  satisfied  their  desire  to  study  the 
new  constructions  that  he  became  a  factor  in  the  day's 
affairs. 

It  was  after  the  drive  back  to  Dorby  Towers  that  he 
slipped  into  the  arena  of  affairs.  It  occurred  while  tea 
was  served  in  the  library.  He  drew  Sir  Joseph  Caistor 
and  Sir  Reginald  away  from  the  rest  of  the  party,  and 
held  a  long  private  consultation  with  them. 

The  result  of  the  consultation  was  the  complete  dis- 


THE  WEEK-END  BEGINS  359 

appearance  of  Ruxton  before  dinner.  He  came  into  his 
father's  room  while  the  old  man  was  in  the  midst  of 
dressing. 

"They've  met  me  in  everything,  Dad,  and  now  I'm 
off,"  he  announced. 

The  abruptness  of  his  announcement  and  the  uncere- 
monious fashion  of  his  visit  caused  his  father  to  pause  in 
the  act  of  adjusting  his  tie.  He  glanced  up  into  the  dark 
eyes.  He  needed  no  added  scrutiny.  Ruxton' s  eyes 
were  shining  with  suppressed  excitement.  The  smile  in 
them  was  confident,  and  the  set  of  his  jaws  told  of  a  de- 
termination that  was  almost  aggressive. 

"  When  shall  we  see  you  again,  boy  ?  " 

There  was  a  gleam  of  anxiety  in  the  deep-set  eyes. 
But  there  was  no  suggestion  of  deterring  him. 

Ruxton  shrugged. 

"  I  can't  tell.  You  see,  it  will  depend  entirely  on  cir- 
cumstances." 

"Yes." 

His  father  returned  to  his  attack  on  his  tie.  Then  he 
smiled. 

"  It  was  a  master  stroke  having  the  two  heads  of  the 
Admiralty  on  the  premises,  also  our  Foreign  Secretary. 
You  left  nothing  to  chance,  Ruxton." 

"  Nothing  but  the  chances  of  the  right  or  wrong  of  my 
beliefs." 

The  old  man  sighed  as  his  tie  went  straight. 

"  Your  imagination  is  beyond  me.  I  could  never  have 
seen  these  things  as  you  see  them.  I  am  anxious  for 
you." 

"  Don't  trouble  about  me.  Be  anxious  if  you  will,  but 
let  that  anxiety  be  for  the  woman  I  love,  and  whom  I 


360  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

hope  even  after  this  to  present  to  you  as  your  daughter. 
If  she  is  safe,  then — for  me  nothing  else  matters.  I  have 
done  all  that  is  humanly  possible,  at  least  which  is  pos- 
sible to  me.  The  rest  is  in  the  lap  of  the  gods.  Wish 
me  luck,  Dad,  and  good-bye." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  In  a  moment  it  was  enveloped 
in  both  of  his  father's. 

"  With  all  my  heart,  lad.  Good-bye.  You  will  win 
out,  I'm  sure." 

Then  he  turned  again  to  his  dressing-table  and  picked 
up  his  hair-brushes.  He  attacked  his  crisply  curling 
white  hair  with  almost  unnecessary  violence  while  his 
eyes  watched  the  retreating  figure  of  his  only  son  in  the 
reflection  of  the  mirror. 

Sunday  dawned  with  a  clouded,  watery  sky.  All  the 
morning  the  threat  of  rain  held.  Then,  at  lunch-time,  a 
wind  sprang  out  of  the  northeast,  and  the  atmosphere 
grew  dry  and  crisp,  and  the  clouds  lightened.  The  grey 
North  Sea  changed  its  hue  to  a  lighter  green,  and  at 
long  intervals  whitecaps  broke  up  the  oily  aspect.  The 
breeze  had  freshened  by  three  o'clock  and  a  chill  swept 
over  the  moorlands,  and  the  feel  and  aspect  of  winter 
settled  upon  the  dull-tinted  landscape.  As  evening  be- 
gan to  close  in  the  breeze  dropped,  and  with  it  fell  the 
temperature. 

Two  figures  paced  the  winding  footpath  at  the  edge 
of  the  cliffs.  Both  were  clad  in  heavy  civilian  ulsters, 
and  their  coat-collars  sheltered  the  lower  portions  of  their 
clean-shaven  faces.  In  their  shaded  eyes  was  that  far-off 
gaze  which  is  only  to  be  found  in  the  eyes  of  men  of  the 
sea.  It  is  an  expression  which  must  ever  betray  the  man 


THE  WEEK-END  BEGINS  361 

who  belongs  to  the  sea  the  moment  he  approaches  that 
element,  which  is  at  once  his  friend  and  his  bitterest  foe. 

Sir  Reginald  Steele  paused  and  pointed  out  at  the  al- 
ready darkening  horizon. 

"  What  a  target,"  he  cried.  "  Look  at  her,  with  her 
absurdly  proud  and  vaunting  four  funnels.  Look  at  the 
great  upstanding  chest  like  some  vain  pouter-pigeon. 
Man,  give  me  an  armored  submarine,  with  a  brace  of 
heavy  guns  on  it,  and  wirelessly  controlled  torpedoes, 
and  I'd — sink  her  cold.  I'd  sink  her  before  she  got  my 
range.  I'd  sink  her  while  she  fumbled  amongst  her 
cumbersome  armaments." 

He  laughed  the  merry  laugh  of  a  man  who  wishes  to 
probe  the  open  wound  of  disagreement  between  two  close 
friends. 

"  You're  welcome  to  the  submarine,  Reggie.  I'll  take 
the  '  pouter '  every  time.  I'll  give  you  a  dozen  shots  with 
your  wireless  controlled  as  a  start,  and  your  pop-guns  can 
amuse  themselves  indefinitely.  She's  a  handsome  craft. 
Town  class,  isn't  she  ?  She'd  make  you  hate  it  in  spite  of 
your  steel-clad  hide." 

Both  men  were  smiling  pleasantly  as  they  watched  the 
distant  cruiser  steaming  slowly  and  sedately  upon  the 
wintry  waters.  The  challenge  had  been  replied  to,  and 
neither  of  the  men  seemed  inclined  to  carry  the  debate 
further.  Admiral  Sir  Reginald  Steele  had  hurled  every 
argument  in  favor  of  his  submarine  beliefs  at  the  head  of 
his  friend  and  chief,  during  official  hours,  and  they  had 
agreed  to  differ.  Now,  in  friendly  intercourse,  he  was 
ready  to  add  his  pin-pricks,  but  he  knew  there  was  noth- 
ing important  to  be  gained. 

"  The  Farlows  are  smart  men,"  he  observed  presently, 


362  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

obviously  following  out  his  train  of  thought  aloud.  "  The 
old  man  is  something  unusual  in  the  way  of  a  shipmaster. 
One  doesn't  associate  these  shipping  princes  with  real 
understanding  of  naval  force.  But  once  or  twice  yester- 
day I  thought  there  were  things  he  could  teach  me." 

"  Yes." 

Sir  Joseph  was  intent  upon  the  movements  of  the 
cruiser.  She  had  displayed  no  lights  and  the  dusk  was 
creeping  on. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  the  old  man  who  is  the  genius  of  Dorby. 
What  about  young  Ruxton  ?  Harborough  is  keen  on  him. 
So  is  Lordburgh.  I  confess  to  a  weakness  that  way  my- 
self. That  was  a  great  stroke  of  his,  getting  the  secrets  of 
that  place  in  the  Baltic.  Apparently  there's  some  one  also 
who  shares  your  faith  in — underwater." 

Sir  Reginald  had  become  absorbed  in  the  horizon.  He 
produced  a  pair  of  glasses  and  peered  out  in  the  gather- 
ing gloom. 

"  All  far-seeing  people  do.  These  Farlows  for  instance," 
he  replied.  "  What's  that  beyond  the  cruiser  ?  She's  low 
in  the  water." 

Sir  Joseph  produced  glasses.  For  some  silent  minutes 
they  remained  scouring  the  sea  with  eyes  long  trained  to 
the  work.  Finally  it  was  Sir  Joseph  who  spoke. 

"  You  should  recognize  it,"  he  said. 

"  Yes.     Underwater,  and — a  foreigner." 

They  relapsed  into  a  long  silence.  The  stars  came  out 
and  a  light  frost  was  settling  upon  the  moor.  The  air  was 
brilliantly  clear.  Their  glasses  revealed  the  two  distant 
objects. 

"  She's  hove-to,"  observed  Sir  Reginald  later  on. 

"  The  cruiser — yes.     That's  a  mistake." 


THE  WEEK-END  BEGINS  363 

Sir  Joseph  made  a  sound  of  impatience  with  his  tongue. 

Again  a  prolonged  silence  fell.  Both  men  were  ab- 
sorbed. The  passage  of  time  seemed  of  no  consequence. 
The  cold  of  the  night  seemed  to  concern  them  not  at  all. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Steele  said  much  later,  in  answer  to 
his  chief's  remark.  "  You  can't  tell  what's  doing  from 
here.  Nor  what  arrangements  young  Farlow  has  made. 
Ah!" 

"  Lights."     Sir  Joseph  waited. 

"  Green  astern*  White  ahead.  Red  amidships.  The 
foreigner  has  shed  a  pinnace.  It's  coming  ashore.  It's 
getting  interesting.  That  boy  seemed  pretty  clear.  I 
hope  things  are  all  right." 

The  boat  was  racing  towards  the  shore  at  a  point  to  the 
right  of  the  two  watchers.  Sir  Reginald  was  following  it 
closely  with  his  night  glasses.  The  other  continued  his 
survey  of  the  vessels  beyond. 

Presently  he  spoke. 

"  She's  steaming  again — the  cruiser." 

"  Yes."  The  other's  glasses  were  raised  towards  the 
horizon  again. 

"  She's  covered  the  foreigner's  lights."  Sir  Joseph 
lowered  his  glasses.  "  What's  the  time  ?  " 

His  companion  lowered  his  glasses.  He  glanced  at  his 
watch. 

"  Nearly  half-past  six,"  he  said  significantly.  Then  in  a 
moment  his  glasses  were  levelled  at  a  point  much  nearer 
into  land.  "  Ah,  here  she  comes,"  he  said,  in  his  quick 
way.  "  Now  the  play  begins.  The  curtain's  going  up. 
No  lights.  A  good  many  regulations  are  being  broken 
to-night.  Shall  we  need  an  enquiry  into  it,  Chief  ? "  Sir 
Reginald  laughed.  "  Well,  Lordburgh  is  to  blame  if  any 


364  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

trouble  occurs.  He  forced  us  to  lend  our  powerful  aid  in 
this  thing.  The  odds  are  on  that  boy  Ruxton.  I'd  bet 
my  hopes  of  pension  on  it.  He's  keen  and  confident. 
Such  romance  never  came  our  way,  eh  ?  I  haven't  heard 
before  of  units  of  the  British  Navy  being  used  to  secure  a 
man  a  wife." 

Sir  Joseph  laughed  shortly. 

"  There's  a  good  deal  more  than  a  woman  in  this.  Ac- 
cording to  Lordburgh  this  trifling  naval  episode  may  secure 
the  person  of  Germany's  strong  man — criminally  engaged. 
It  would  be  worth  while.  Sparling's  a  good  man.  If  they 
pull  it  off  it'll  be  his  best  day's  work.  Hello  ! " 

At  that  moment  a  great  white  beam  of  light  shot  athwart 
the  sky.  It  moved  swiftly  and  rigidly.  It  swept  in  a  great 
arc  and  settled  on  the  face  of  the  cliff  away  to  their  right. 

"  Look.  Three  lights  just  below  us."  Sir  Reginald 
pointed  out  upon  the  water.  "  Green  astern.  White 
ahead.  Red  amidships.  It  isn't  the  foreigner  from  out- 
side. It's " 

"  Hark  !  "     Sir  Joseph  held  up  a  warning  hand. 

The  two  men  listened  acutely.  Far  away,  remote  but 
distinct,  the  sound  of  a  pistol-shot  reached  them. 

"  That's  the  second,"  said  Sir  Joseph.  "  Come  along, 
let's  go  and  see  what's  happening." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  WEEK-END 

PRINCE  VON  HERTZWOHL  gazed  about  him.  His  tall 
figure  was  bowed.  He  was  no  longer  clad  in  the  working 
costume  which  had  been  his  disguise  for  so  many  days  in 
Dorby.  His  lean  face  was  shaded  beneath  a  wide,  soft- 
brimmed  hat  which  entirely  concealed  that  wonderful 
forehead  which  had  so  impressed  Ruxton.  But  the  shaven 
cheeks  added  years  to  his  age.  Beneath  his  chin  were 
displayed  those  fleshy  cords  which  do  not  belong  to  any- 
thing up  to  the  middle  life.  He  certainly  looked  older 
than  ever  in  the  foreign-designed  clothes  which  he  was  now 
wearing. 

The  cold  breath  of  the  moor  swept  by  him,  it  penetrated 
the  lightish  overcoat  he  was  wearing.  Once  or  twice  he 
shivered  as  he  gazed  this  way  and  that,  searching  the 
already  hazy  sky-line  for  a  sign  of  any  movement. 

For  some  time  he  seemed  in  doubt.  Then  at  last  he 
drew  in  towards  the  black  shelter  of  the  old  mill,  which 
stood  out  in  the  grey  light,  keeping  its  ancient  watch 
over  the  cove  below.  He  glanced  within  its  shadowed 
interior.  It  was  inhospitable.  But  it  was  as  he  had 
always  known  it.  Everything  was  undisturbed.  He 
drew  his  coat  about  him  and  buttoned  it  up.  The  air 
was  so  keen,  and  he  had  little  relish  for  it.  Presently  he 
sat  down  upon  a  fallen  timber  under  the  shelter  of  the 


366  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

wall.  He  must  wait.  Nothing  could  be  done  until  the 
arrival  he  was  expecting. 

It  was  a  desolate  spot,  and  the  influence  of  it  was  not 
unfelt.  But  the  solitude  was  not  altogether  unappreci- 
ated. If  there  were  eyes  watching  they  failed  to  make 
their  presence  felt,  and  he  was  glad.  He  lit  a  cigar  and 
sought  comfort  in  it  from  the  bleak  northern  air.  His 
thoughtful  eyes  wandered  in  every  direction  his  shelter 
permitted.  To  the  east,  across  the  sea.  'To  the  south, 
over  the  rolling  moor.  To  the  west,  where  the  dying 
light  of  day  was  melting  steadily  before  the  grey  obscurity 
of  coming  night. 

The  minutes  passed  slowly,  slowly,  as  they  ever  pass 
to  the  anxious  mind.  But  the  dark  of  evening  gathered 
with  all  the  rapidity  of  early  winter. 

The  long  journey  was  drawing  to  its  close.  Long 
since,  the  great  North  Road  had  been  left  behind.  Now 
the  powerful  car  swept  along,  with  its  monotonous  purr, 
over  the  winding  coast  road,  which  split  the  wide-spread- 
ing moorland,  and  headed  on  in  the  teeth  of  the  bitter 
northeasterly  breeze. 

The  chill  penetrated  to  the  snug  interior  of  the  car. 
Vita  was  forced  to  draw  the  heavy  overcoat  more  closely 
about  her.  She  shivered,  but  it  was  not  with  the  actual 
cold.  Her  thoughts  were  a-riot.  They  were  full  of  an 
intense  and  painful  dread. 

She  had  made  the  journey  north  in  the  company  of  the 
man  whom  she  knew  she  was  now  condemned  to  marry 
— condemned  beyond  reprieve.  The  only  gleam  of  light 
which  had  struggled  through  the  darkness  of  her  despair 
was  that  he  had  spared  her  his  company  in  the  car.  He 


THE  WEEK-END  367 

had  dismissed  the  driver  of  the  car  at  Bath,  and  taken 
upon  himself  that  duty.  Thus  Vita  had  been  spared  an 
added  torture  to  the  desperate  feelings  assailing  her. 

She  had  no  thought  of  revolt.  She  felt  that  destiny 
loomed  before  her  in  overwhelming  force.  Escape  had 
no  place  in  her  thought.  She  had  entered  into  a  contract. 
A  sordid  contract,  she  felt.  A  contract  which  had  per- 
haps been  forced  upon  her,  but  which  had  been  accepted 
by  her  through  an  invincible  desire  to  be  permitted  to 
drag  out  the  weary  years  of  life,  rather  than  face  bravely 
the  harsh  consequences  and  penalties  of  truth  and  loyalty 
to  the  demands  of  honor.  She  admitted  the  dreadful 
cowardice  which  had  driven  her,  and  a  wave  of  loathing 
for  herself  left  her  crushed  under  a  burden  of  bitter  con- 
tempt. 

But  during  the  journey,  in  communion  with  her  own 
wretched  thoughts,  she  had  searched  the  future  as  only 
vivid  imagination  permitted,  and  the  picture  she  had  dis- 
covered was  perhaps  a  thousandfold  more  dreadful  than 
her  earlier  anticipations.  Panic  had  urged  her  in  the 
first  place.  But  now  the  original  panic  which  had  driven 
her  into  her  contract  had  passed,  leaving  her  only  the 
skeleton,  which,  in  the  first  place,  had  been  clothed  in  the 
brilliant  flesh  and  raiment  inspired  by  the  yearning  for 
life.  To  think  of  the  right  she  had  given  that  square, 
fleshy  figure  sitting  before  her  beyond  the  glass  partition 
of  the  car !  The  right  to  control  her  destiny ;  to  be 
always  near  her,  to — caress  her.  And  all  the  while  an- 
other image  lay  treasured  in  her  heart,  another  voice  was 
always  in  her  ears,  another  hand  lay  in  hers,  and  other 

lips It  was  beyond  endurance — the  thought.  To 

think  that  way  lay  madness.  Her  eyes  grew  haggard 


368  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

with  dry  tears.  She  was  left  beyond  ordinary  emotion. 
She  could  only  stir  restlessly,  with  brain  heated  almost  to 
fever  by  the  pressure  of  dreadful  thought. 

So  the  miles  had  been  devoured  by  the  senseless,  softly 
droning  wheels.  Merciless  wheels  they  became.  Nothing 
could  stop  them,  nothing  could  deter  the  progress  towards 
that  maelstrom  of  horror  in  the  direction  of  which  she 
was  gliding. 

Then  came  the  familiar  breath  of  the  Yorkshire  moor- 
lands. She  remembered  it.  She  remembered  every 
aspect  of  the  scene  about  her.  It  was  not  possible  for  it 
to  be  otherwise.  She  writhed  under  the  lash  of  memory. 
Was  it  not  here  she  had  first  looked  down  upon  the  prone 
figure  and  upward-glancing  dark  eyes  of  Ruxton  Farlow  ? 
Was  it  not  here  she  had,  poured  out  to  him  the  vaunting 
story  of  her  desires  to  serve  humanity?  Had  she  not 
witnessed  the  light  of  sympathy  leap  into  his  eyes  here — 
here,  at  the  passionate  profession  she  had  made  to  him? 
And  now — oh,  the  pity  of  it! — the  miserable,  cowardly 
sequel  to  all  her  protestations. 

The  grey  of  evening  filled  the  car,  and  somehow  Vita 
was  glad  of  it.  She  felt  she  could  hide  her  worthless  self 
beneath  it.  The  moorland  scene  faded,  and  the  great 
dark  gorse  banks  merged  into  one  blackening  world. 
Then,  directly  ahead,  the  aged  landmark  of  the  skeleton 
mill  rose  sharply  out  of  the  dusk. 

Her  pulses  quickened.  The  journey  was  at  its  end. 
Her  father  would  be  there  awaiting  her,  and  she  must 
face  those  wide,  understanding  eyes  as  she  told  him  the 
story  of  her  cowardly  yielding.  She  shrank  further  into 
the  corner.  She  knew  the  fearless  spirit  of  the  man,  and 
she  dreaded  his  contempt.  The  secret  of  her  contract 


THE  WEEK-END  369 

with  the  man  driving  the  car  was  still  her  own,  but,  in  a 
few  minutes,  it  must  be  revealed  to  one  whose  contempt 
would  deal  the  final  crushing  blow. 

She  nerved  herself  as  the  car  drew  up.  Then,  with 
ashen  lips  and  frightened  eyes,  she  became  aware  of  a 
tall,  lean  figure  standing  out  against  the  sky-line. 

She  waited  for  no  assistance.  She  flung  the  door 
wide,  and,  in  a  moment,  she  was  enfolded  in  her  father's 
embrace. 

But  she  dared  not  yield  to  the  joy  of  reunion.  She 
freed  herself,  and  began  to  talk.  Not  a  moment  must  be 
lost  in  telling  him  her  story,  the  story  of  all  the  dread  and 
horror  she  had  lived  through.  She  knew  she  dared  not 
risk  delay,  or  her  last  vestige  of  courage  would  vanish 
into  thin  air. 

She  poured  out  the  story  of  the  machinations,  in  the 
toils  of  which  they  had  been  caught.  She  told  him  the 
story  of  the  jeopardy  in  which  he  stood ;  of  the  power 
which  had  been  transferred  from  Berlin  to  bring  about 
his  final  destruction.  She  told  him  of  the  death  sentence 
which  had  been  passed  upon  her  by  the  terrible  Von 
Berger,  and  how,  in  the  last  moment  of  her  despair, 
succor  had  been  proffered  in  the  last  quarter  from  which 
it  could  have  reasonably  been  expected.  And  then  came 
the  story  of  her  pledge. 

To  the  long  story  the  old  man  listened  with  the  closest 
attention.  He  gave  no  sign,  he  offered  no  interruption. 
At  its  conclusion  Vita  paused,  breathlessly  awaiting  the 
verdict  in  the  man's  luminous  eyes.  She  watched  them. 
She  searched  them,  seeking  that  faint  spark  which  might 
hold  out  the  smallest  hope.  She  was  living  for  that  alone 
— now. 


370  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  Prince  stood  for  a  moment,  his  eyes  gazing  past 
her  at  the  sides  of  the  travel-stained  car.  Then  one  long 
thin  hand  went  up  to  his  forehead,  and  his  soft  hat  was 
thrust  back  on  his  head.  The  hand  pressed  down  upon 
his  brows  and  moved  across  them,  as  though  brushing 
aside  some  sense  of  weariness.  His  eyes  shifted  their 
gaze  towards  the  man  standing  near  the  car.  They  took 
in  the  square,  burly  figure  from  the  crown  of  its  hat  to  the 
soles  of  its  feet.  Then  they  came  back  to  Vita,  and  the 
smile  in  them  suggested  a  final  sympathetic  decision 
overriding  the  natural  antagonistic  feelings  towards  the 
man  whom  he  looked  upon  as  his  enemy. 

"  Where  is  he — Von  Salzinger  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Vita  caught  her  breath.     It  was  the  crisis. 

"  Here,  father.     He  drove  the  car." 

The  Prince's  eyes  again  sought  the  man.  Then  he 
spoke,  and  the  tone  of  his  voice  eased  the  woman's 
tension. 

"  You  have  done  me  a  service,  Herr  von  Salzinger.  A 
service  I  could  hardly  have  looked  for.  It  is  to  be  paid 
for,  I  understand,  and  the  price  is  high.  However,  the 
risks  you  have  taken,  the  sacrifices  you  have  made  are 
doubtless  great,  from  your  point  of  view.  Therefore 
I  can  only — thank  you.  Come.  The  vessel  should  be 
lying  off  by  this  time.  What  will  you  do  with  the  car?" 

Von  Salzinger  stepped  forward.  The  night  was  dark, 
and  it  was  impossible  to  observe  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"  The  car  can  remain.     It  is — not  mine." 

The  Prince  inclined  his  head. 

"  Then  we  will  go  down  to  the  cove.     Vita  ! " 

At  the  gentle  tone  of  his  voice  the  woman  moved  at 
once  to  his  side.  Whatever  his  innermost  thoughts  and 


THE  WEEK-END  371 

feelings,  he  had  conveyed  to  her  troubled  heart  the  assur- 
ance of  his  perfect  love  and  sympathy. 

A  man  stood  in  the  steel  doorway  of  the  clumsy  tower 
which  supported  a  pair  of  periscopes.  The  vessel  was  an 
early  type  of  submarine.  It  was  crude  in  finish  and  se- 
vere in  fashion.  Its  flush  deck  was  narrow,  and  a  mere 
rail  protected  its  sides. 

His  attention  seemed  divided  between  a  group  of  men 
in  oilskins  engaged  in  launching  a  motor  pinnace,  and 
the  movements  of  a  war-craft  standing  off  some  distance 
astern. 

Night  was  closing  upon  an  oily  sea,  which  lolled  in 
listless  fashion  beneath  the  starry  sheen  of  a  now  almost 
windless  evening.  The  threatened  "  northeaster  "  which 
had  been  developing  all  the  afternoon  had  suddenly  died 
out  under  the  influence  of  a  sharp  frost.  There  was  a 
certain  satisfaction  in  the  luck  of  the  weather.  This  man 
knew  quite  well  what  he  might  have  been  called  upon  to 
face  on  the  bitter  northeast  coast  of  Britain. 

The  stone-grey  eyes  of  the  man  were  no  less  keen  than 
the  bitter  air.  Nor  were  they  less  watchful  than  the 
peeping  stars  already  beginning  to  stud  the  sky.  The 
rest  of  his  face  was  lost  in  the  folds  of  a  woollen  scarf, 
which  was  in  turn  enveloped  in  the  high  collar  of  his 
overcoat. 

There  was  the  sound  of  footsteps  behind  him  coming 
up  the  steel  companion,  and  in  a  moment  he  was  joined 
by  a  man  in  oilskins.  The  latter  were  carelessly  adjusted 
about  the  neck,  and  from  beneath  them  peeped  the  de- 
tails of  a  uniform  which  was  foreign  to  the  coast  off  which 
the  vessel  was  lying. 


372  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

The  newcomer  joined  in  the  survey  of  the  war-craft's 
dim  outline  against  the  horizon. 

"  She's  not  there  by  chance,  Excellency,"  he  said  warn- 
ingly,  in  the  deep  guttural  of  the  Teutonic  language. 

For  some  moments  the  other  made  no  reply.  His  eyes 
were  upon  the  men  at  work.  The  boat  was  launched, 
and  the  engine  was  being  started. 

"  No,"  he  said  at  last.  Then  his  eyes  came  sharply  to 
the  other's  face.  "  You  have  had  to  take  big  chances 
in  your  time.  You've  got  to  take  a  greater  chance  now. 
This  is  not  war." 

"  No,  Excellency.  This  is  peace."  The  man  laughed 
deep-throatedly. 

"  That  is  why  the  warship  does  not  matter.  She  will 
not  break  the  peace,  and  we  are  beyond  the  home-water 
limit.  We  are  free  to  do  as  we  please." 

"  And  yet  she  is  watching  us.  It  interests  me  what 
she  intends.  These  British  naval  men  are  a  different 
race  from  those  ashore.  They  will  do  as  they  think,  in 
spite  of — peace." 

"Yes."  There  was  a  speculative  look  in  the  stone- 
grey  eyes. 

Finally  he  gave  his  whole  attention  to  the  men  on  the 
deck.  He  seemed  to  have  put  all  speculation  aside. 

"  Von  Hertzwohl's  submersible  will  soon  be  along  now. 
We  shall  see  her  lights.  She  will  carry  lights.  She 
must  do  so  for  the  shore  boat.  You  have  your  orders." 

"Yes,  Excellency.  When  you  have  left  in  this  boat 
the  other  will  be  prepared.  I  shall  take  a  party  and 
board  Hertzwohl's  vessel,  and  make  myself  master  of  it. 
Meanwhile,  this  vessel  will  lie  off  with  lights  out,  stand- 
ing by  in  case  of  accidents  to  pick  you  up.  If  all  goes 


THE  WEEK-END  373 

well  you  will  return  from  shore  and  come  aboard  Von 
Hertzwohl's  vessel.  Instantly  she  will  submerge  and  lay 
a  course  for  Heligoland  Bight.  It  is  clear,  and  should  be 
simple." 

"It  should  be  simple.  Hertzwohl's  vessel  must  go 
back  with  us.  She  has  the  U-rays  lamp  on  her."  The 
grey  eyes  were  turned  questioningly  in  the  direction 
where  the  war-vessel  had  been  lying.  The  darkness  had 
become  such  that  its  outline  was  scarcely  visible.  Then 
he  went  on.  "This  vessel  will  follow  us  to  the  Bight. 
Ha ! "  He  thrust  out  a  pointing  hand.  "  The  lights. 
Red.  Green.  White."  He  turned  again,  and  his  eyes 
were  hard  and  stern  in  the  light  of  the  conning-tower. 
"  Make  no  mistakes.  Your  orders  to — the  letter." 

"  Yes,  Excellency." 

Both  men  moved  off  down  the  gently  swaying  deck 
towards  the  break  in  the  rail  where  the  pinnace,  with  its 
complement  of  four  men,  was  waiting.  The  man  with 
the  stone-grey  eyes  leapt  into  the  boat.  The  next  moment 
its  crew  had  cast  off,  and  its  head  had  been  swung  round 
shorewards  in  response  to  the  race  of  its  powerful  motor. 

Suddenly  a  great  beam  of  light  shot  athwart  the  sky. 
It  lowered  slowly,  and,  a  moment  later,  it  fell  upon  the 
submarine,  on  the  deck  of  which  a  number  of  men  had 
replaced  those  which  had  just  left.  For  a  moment  the 
officer  in  charge  of  them  looked  up,  and  his  eyes  were 
caught  in  the  dazzle  of  the  blinding  light.  Then  the 
light  was  raised  and  swept  away  landwards.  It  described 
a  great  arc  and  fell  upon  the  shore.  A  moment  later  it 
was  withdrawn.  Again  it  settled  upon  the  submarine. 

The  officer  waited  for  it  to  pass.  A  look  of  deep 
anxiety  began  to  fill  his  eyes.  He  was  thinking  of  his 


374  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

orders,  and  of  the  man  who  had  given  them.  But  the 
light  remained  focussed  full  upon  his  deck,  and  presently 
it  dawned  upon  him  that  the  warship  was  steaming, 
steaming  slowly  and  almost  noiselessly  towards  him.  A 
feeling  of  impotence  took  hold  of  him.  He  thought  of 
his  torpedo  tubes,  but  the  thought  passed,  thrust  aside 
with  an  impatient  remembrance  that  it  was  peace  and — 
not  war.  His  impotence  grew.  He  could  only  stand 
there  helpless  and  stupid. 

The  great  vessel  came  on  slowly,  slowly.  Soon  its 
outline  became  clear,  even  in  the  darkness.  The  silent 
threat  became  unnerving.  The  officer  ordered  his  men 
to  desist  from  their  work.  The  vessel  drew  abreast. 
Then  she  hove-to.  But  the  terrible  glare  of  the  search- 
light remained  full  upon  the  long,  narrow  deck  upon 
which  the  officer  stood. 

His  eyes  sought  for  a  sign.  But  the  blinding  light 
held  him.  He  could  see  nothing.  Just  a  shadowy, 
sombre  hull.  The  great  guns  were  not  visible  to  him  in 
the  painful  light. 

There  was  no  alternative.  He  turned  to  the  conning- 
tower,  and  his  men  were  sent  below.  The  next  moment 
the  engines  were  at  work,  and  the  vessel  submerged. 
Minutes  later  a  swirl  of  water  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant, 
and  a  great  bulk  rose  to  the  surface  out  of  the  watery 
depths.  The  steel  door  of  the  conning-tower  opened 
again,  and  the  officer  looked  out.  The  beam  of  light 
from  the  war-vessel  was  gliding  over  the  lolling  surface 
of  the  water.  It  was  moving  towards  him  slowly,  as 
though  searching  carefully.  Again  his  vessel  was  caught 
in  its  silvery  shaft.  Again  it  held.  Again  the  great  ves- 
sel began  to  move  towards  him. 


THE  WEEK-END  375 

With  a  bitter  oath  the  officer  turned  back  into  the  con- 
ning-tower  and  slammed  to  the  heavy  steel  door. 

Vita  and  her  father  were  standing  at  the  water's  edge. 
A  pace  or  two  behind  them  stood  Von  Salzinger.  None 
of  the  three  seemed  inclined  for  speech.  Von  Hertzwohl 
was  gazing  out  at  the  narrow  opening  to  the  open  sea 
beyond.  His  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  unexpected 
phenomenon  he  beheld. 

A  searchlight  was  playing  over  the  water,  moving  at 
intervals,  then  it  would  become  stationary.  The  vessel 
from  which  it  emanated  was  a  long  way  out,  yet  its  light 
hovered  persistently,  as  though  its  whole  purpose  was 
riveted  upon  the  definite  area  which  lay  in  full  view  from 
where  he  stood. 

Vita,  too,  was  gazing  out  to  sea.  But  though  the  play 
of  the  lights  caught  and  held  her  attention,  they  had  no 
power  to  sway  the  trend  of  teeming  thoughts  which  were 
passing  through  her  brain.  The  things  she  beheld  meant 
nothing  to  her.  They  could  mean  nothing.  These  were 
her  last  moments  on  the  land  she  loved — the  land  which 
was  the  home  of  the  man  who  had  changed  her  life  from 
a  troubled  and  anxious  existence  to  a  dream  of  bliss  such 
as  she  had  believed  impossible.  She  had  sold  herself  at 
the  price  of  life.  Life  ?  She  had  gone  back  again  to  ex- 
istence a  thousand  times  more  dreadful  than  the  worst 
nightmare  could  have  conjured.  Yes,  her  father  was 
safe,  her  beloved  father.  All  their  plans  would  be  the 
safer  for  their  going.  She  would  be  free  to  witness,  in 
due  regularity,  the  progress  of  future  seasons.  She  had 
done  her  duty,  and  her  best.  But  oh,  what  a  best ! 

There  were  moments  as  she  stood  there  waiting  when 


3/6  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

she  could  have  flung  her  arms  out  and  screamed  till  the 
echoes  of  the  cove  rang  again.  There  were  moments 
when  she  could  have  flung  herself  upon  the  angular 
figure  she  knew  and  felt  to  be  standing  behind  her,  and 
impotently  torn  at  his  hated  flesh.  He  was  her  master, 
her  future  arbiter,  the  man  to  whose  caresses  she  must 
submit. 

Quite  suddenly  her  father  raised  one  thin,  pointing  hand. 

"  The  boat,"  he  said.  And  Vita's  thoughts  were 
swept  aside  for  the  moment,  and  her  comprehending 
gaze  became  fixed  upon  a  dim  object  sweeping  through 
the  jaws  of  the  cove.  The  darkness  of  the  place  made 
it  impossible  to  distinguish  its  outline.  It  was  a  shadow, 
a  mere  shadow  against  the  moving  lights  beyond. 

Once  it  was  past  the  jaws,  however,  the  throb  of  its 
engine  beat  against  the  rocky  walls  and  echoed  again. 
It  was  as  though  half-a-dozen  engines  were  thrashing  the 
water.  Now,  too,  a  headlight  shone  out. 

Suddenly  Von  Hertzwohl  caught  up  the  lighted  lantern 
at  his  feet. 

"  Ach  ! "  he  cried.  "  The  madmen  !  They  are  head- 
ing here — for  this  light.  One  would  think  they  had 
never  made  the  spit  before."  He  turned.  "  Quick.  The 
spit,  or  they  will  drive  on  the  rocks." 

He  ran  along  the  beach,  followed  by  Vita  and  Von 
Salzinger.  In  a  few  moments  he  was  standing  on  the 
extremity  of  the  rocky  spit,  waving  his  lantern  and  call- 
ing instructions. 

"  Gott  in  Himmel ! "  he  cried.  "  Slow,  slow.  You  will 
break  on  sunken  rocks.  Are  you  mad  ?  This  way. 
Ach !  Slower,  slower.  So.  Easy.  Bring  her  nose 
round.  So.  Easy.  Now ! " 


THE  WEEK-END  377 

The  old  man  stooped,  and,  with  Von  Salzinger,  as- 
sisted in  fending  off  the  pinnace.  Vita  had  taken  up  the 
lantern.  She  was  holding  it  to  make  the  most  of  its 
feeble  rays.  Then  of  a  sudden  a  sharp  exclamation 
broke  from  the  Prince. 

" Four ! " 

He  had  counted  the  men  in  the  boat.  Vita  heard  the 
exclamation  without  gathering  its  significance.  A  man 
leapt  out  of  the  stern  of  the  boat,  and  another  followed 
him.  The  light  of  the  lantern  fell  full  upon  the  leader's 
face.  A  cry  broke  from  the  woman,  an  inarticulate  cry. 
It  brought  her  father  to  his  feet. 

Then,  swiftly  and  terribly,  was  enacted  a  scene  un- 
forgettable to  those  who  beheld  it.  The  wide,  fear- 
less eyes  of  the  princely  Pole  gazed  with  loathing  and 
hate  into  the  stone-grey  eyes  of  the  man  who  had 
leapt  first  from  the  boat.  It  was  only  for  one  para- 
lyzed moment.  Then  a  harsh,  furious  voice  ejaculated 
a  name,  and  Vita's  lantern  clattered  as  it  fell  upon  the 
rocky  spit,  and  went  out  as  it  rolled  into  the  lapping 
water. 

"  Von  Berger  !  " 

It  was  Von  Hertzwohl's  voice  ;  and  as  he  spoke  he 
stepped  back  from  the  hated  proximity.  Once,  once 
only  his  wide  eyes  swept  over  the  various  figures  about 
him.  Then,  with  a  lightning  movement,  one  long  arm 
was  flung  out.  There  was  no  word  spoken.  There 
was  no  mercy  in  either  heart  of  the  antagonists.  The 
penetrating  crack  of  an  automatic  pistol  alone  awoke 
the  echoes.  They  were  flung  from  rock  to  rock,  and, 
blending  with  them,  came  the  sound  of  running  feet. 

But  long  before  the  echoes  had  reached  their  climax 


378  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

a  second  shot  rang  out — a  heavier  shot ;  and  as  it  split 
the  air  Von  Hertzwohl  fell.  His  knees  gave  under  him, 
and  his  tall  figure  toppled  almost  into  the  arms  of  the 
man  who  had  fired  the  shot  with  such  deliberate,  deadly 
effect.  To  this  sound  was  added  swift  movement.  Vita, 
standing  paralyzed  with  terror,  was  seized  from  behind, 
and  the  heavy  breath  of  Von  Salzinger  fanned  the  back 
of  her  neck.  She  was  supported  bodily,  and,  in  an  in- 
stant, the  swaying  boat  caught  her  struggling  body  with 
brutal  force,  and  for  her  all  sensation  abruptly  termi- 
nated. Then  came  Von  Berger's  voice  in  sharp  com- 
mand, as  the  shouts  of  men  aroused  new  echoes  in  the 
black  arena. 

"  Quick  !    Take  him  !     Now  cast  off  !  " 

The  arms  of  men  reached  up  and  caught  the  inanimate 
body  of  Von  Hertzwohl.  It  was  dropped  urgently  into 
the  bottom  of  the  boat.  Then,  to  the  accompaniment  of 
scrambling  feet,  the  boat  was  vigorously  propelled  back- 
wards into  the  ebbing  tide. 

The  headlight  was  extinguished,  and  the  boat  vanished 
like  a  ghost  into  the  blackness  of  the  gaping  cove. 

A  moment  later  the  racing  engine  pulsated  with  a 
confusion  of  echoes,  and  a  group  of  men  stood  at  the 
water's  edge  searching  for  the  direction  in  which  the 
speeding  craft  was  moving.  It  was  hopeless. 

Then  came  a  voice — the  authoritative  voice  of  a 
leader. 

"Don't  fire.  Not  a  shot.  You  can't  be  certain  who 
you'll  hit.  They  won't  get  far." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WEEK-END 

A  SENSATION  of  dreadful  pain  swept  through  an  eter- 
nity of  obscurity,  impenetrable  to  all  but  a  subconscious 
emotion.  Horror  floated  through  a  world  unseen,  un- 
known. Terror  thrilled  senses  dead  to  all  reality.  An 
abyss  yawned  on  every  hand,  a  black  abyss  in  which 
stirred,  all  unseen,  a  threat  so  overwhelming  that  the 
victim  remained  passive,  defenceless  ;  waiting,  waiting 
for  the  final  crushing  torture. 

The  blackness  changed.  It  gave  place  to  a  deep, 
ruddy  light.  It  was  a  light  which  inspired  a  sensation 
of  fierce  burning.  The  scorch  of  it  was  devastating, 
yet  the  torture  went  on  as  if  the  limit  could  never  be 
reached. 

The  ruddy  light  faded  to  a  grey  twilight,  through 
which  shot  tongues  of  forked  flame,  and,  with  each  rift 
in  the  grey,  pain  shot  a  hundredfold  more  intense  for 
its  broken  continuity.  A  terrified  shrinking  resulted. 
The  moments  of  respite  became  a  period  of  mental 
torture  greater  than  the  reality  of  the  stabs  of  blinding 
light. 

It  seemed  that  no  suffering  could  ever  equal  such  agony 
again.  It  was  living  death. 

Again  it  all  changed.  The  bodily  suffering  no  longer 
broke  intermittently.  Terror  had  given  place  to  a  grind- 
ing physical  burden  of  agony  in  which  something  ap- 
proaching consciousness  had  place.  It  came  with  a 


38o  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

hammering  upon  the  straining  brain,  and  beat  its  way 
through  the  body,  right  down  to  the  very  depths  of  the 
tortured  soul.  It  was  unbearable,  yet  its  burden  seemed 
inevitable,  and  complaint  seemed  hushed  by  an  irresist- 
ible power. 

Then  in  the  midst  of  all  the  torture  a  sound  reached 
the  victim.  It  was  the  sound  of  a  voice,  of  voices. 
Harsh,  jarring  voices,  carrying  threat  in  every  tone. 
It  was  the  magic  touch  which  brought  about  a  vague 
semi-consciousness,  and  Vita's  eyes  slowly  opened. 

The  pain  went  on,  burning,  throbbing  pain,  but  she 
did  not  mind  it.  She  was  scarcely  aware  of  it.  The 
voices  held  her,  and  she  struggled  with  all  her  power  to 
grasp  and  hold  their  meaning.  But  the  effort  was  be- 
yond her.  Only  the  words  came,  and  with  them  a  grow- 
ing, unaccountable  fear  inspired  by  the  violence  of  their 
intonation. 

"  Trapped  like  rats  in  a  pit,"  she  heard  a  voice  cry  out 
in  thick  tones. 

"  That  door.  Fool !  They  must  come  that  way.  We 
can  shoot  them  down  as  they  come.  Trapped  ?  They'll 
pay  dearly  for  the  trapping." 

What  were  they  talking  of  ?  And  why  in  such  tones  ? 
What  were  those  other  sounds  she  heard  ?  Vita  remained 
unmoving,  helpless,  and  without  understanding. 

Suddenly  a  crash  overwhelmed  every  other  sound.  It 
left  her  poor  head  whirling  with  uncertainty. 

Then  something  else  shivered  through  her  every 
nerve.  Another  sound — different.  There  was  a  clatter 
and  bumping,  and  strange,  sharp  explosions,  such  as 
in  a  vague  way  she  half  remembered  having  heard  some- 
where before.  What  was  it?  Each  sound  seemed  to 


THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WEEK-END  381 

bite  the  air,  echo,  then  die  out.  Then  quickly  on  its 
heels  another  followed,  and  then  another.  Every  explo- 
sion gave  her  a  stab  of  exquisite  pain  in  the  head,  her 
aching,  throbbing  head,  in  which  the  sufferings  of  her 
body  seemed  to  find  a  sort  of  dull,  constant  echo. 

Now  came  the  sound  of  voices  again.  But  they  were 
indistinct  exclamations  which  conveyed  nothing  to  her. 
What  was  that  tearing  and  crunching  ?  A  perfect  pan- 
demonium had  suddenly  been  let  loose,  in  which  voices 
and  biting  explosions  blended  with  the  rush  and  scuttling 
of  many  feet.  A  dreadful  nightmare  of  noise  disturbed 
her.  The  hoarse  cries  of  the  voices  were  distressing. 

Something,  something Hark  1  What  was  that  ? 

That  voice.  She  knew  it. 

"  Hold  him !  Gad !  He's  like  a  tiger.  Smash  his 
wrist !  Only  get  that  gun  from  him  !  Ah !  That's  it. 
Now — see  if  he  has  any  more  weapons." 

Full  consciousness  had  suddenly  awakened.  The  fa- 
miliar voice  had  succeeded  where  pandemonium  had 
failed.  Vita  stirred  with  infinite  pain.  With  a  great  ef- 
fort she  moved  her  body.  She  could  have  wept  with  the 
torture  of  it.  That  voice.  She  must  see  him.  She  must 

gaze  upon  the  face  of  the  speaker.  She  must With 

a  lurch  she  strove  to  raise  herself  upon  her  elbow.  For 
one  dreadful  second  an  agony  surpassing  anything  she 
had  ever  endured  crowded  her  brain,  and  swept  through 
her  nerves  to  every  extremity  of  her  body.  Then  she 
fell  back,  engulfed  in  the  black  abyss  of  complete  uncon- 
sciousness. 

Three  men  were  seated  in  the  dishevelled  saloon  of  the 
gently  rocking  vessel.  Brilliant  electric  light  shone  down 


382  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

upon  the  wreckage  about  them.  At  the  far  side  of  the 
apartment  lay  the  still  form  of  a  woman  stretched  out 
upon  a  luxurious  settee,  which  was  built  against  the 
ship's  side.  In  another  direction  another  inanimate  form 
was  stretched  out  upon  a  lounge.  But  this  was  the  lean 
figure  of  a  tall  man  with  grey  hair  and  bushy  eyebrows. 
His  face  was  ghastly,  and  his  eyes  were  staring.  His 
square  jaw  was  hanging  loose,  and  his  lips  were  agape. 

These  two  figures  seemed  to  have  no  interest  for  the 
three  men  who  sat  facing  each  other.  One  of  them  was 
seated  on  a  chair  that  was  fixed  to  the  deck  with  its  back 
swung  round  against  the  table.  He  was  sitting  in  a 
hunched  attitude  of  great  pain.  One  hand  was  support- 
ing the  other  arm  just  above  the  wrist.  His  stone-grey 
eyes  burned  with  a  desperate  light. 

The  other  men  were  within  two  yards  of  him.  One,  a 
youngish-looking  man,  in  British  naval  uniform,  was 
seated  on  the  edge  of  a  table.  With  his  right  hand  he 
was  grasping  the  butt  of  a  revolver,  whose  muzzle  was 
lying  across  the  fleshy  part  of  his  thigh.  The  other,  in 
civil  dress,  was  astride  of  a  chair. 

The  man  in  civil  dress  was  speaking.  His  voice  was 
stern  and  cold.  And,  by  the  expression  of  his  dark  eyes, 
it  was  obvious  that  he  was  holding  himself  under  a  great 
restraint. 

"  This  is  a  bad  end  for  a  man  holding  the  great  posi- 
tion which  Prince  Frederick  von  Berger  occupies,"  he 
said.  "  I  want  you  to  understand.  Prince,  that  it  is  the 
end,  just  as  surely  as  the  sun  will  rise  to-morrow.  Do 
you  grasp  the  position  ?  I  am  not  here  to  taunt  you 
with  it.  But  for  your  own  sake  I  must  make  it  clear  to 
you.  Your  fellow-conspirator,  Von  Salzinger,  has  by 


THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WEEK-END  383 

this  time  been  lowered  to  his  last  resting-place  beneath 
the  waters.  For  you  there  will  be  less  mercy." 

He  paused,  narrowly  observing  the  fierce  light  shining 
in  the  desperate  eyes.  Ruxton  had  no  desire  for  unnec- 
essary cruelty,  but  Vita  was  lying  injured  and  uncon- 
scious just  across  the  room,  and  he  had  no  thought  to 
spare  the  author  of  her  troubles. 

"  Make  no  mistake,  Prince,"  he  went  on  again,  con- 
tinuing his  use  of  the  Prussian's  own  tongue,  and  fight- 
ing down  his  own  deep  feelings,  "  there  will  be  no  succor 
from  your  countrymen.  You  have  deliberately  caused 
the  murder  of  Von  Hertzwohl  upon  British  soil,  and  for 
that  you  will  pay  the  full  British  penalty.  That  penalty, 
Prince,  is  the  rope  which  awaits  every  common  murderer." 

Von  Berger  threw  up  his  head  in  a  fury  of  denial.  The 
naval  man  sat  alert,  and  the  barrel  of  his  revolver  moved 
a  shade.  But  the  Prussian  made  no  attempt  at  the  vio- 
lence which  was  gleaming  in  his  eyes.  His  wrist  had  been 
smashed  in  the  struggle  which  had  taken  place,  and  he 
knew  he  had  no  chance  with  these  men. 

"  England  dare  not  place  me  on  trial,  and  condemn  me," 
he  cried  fiercely. 

Ruxton  raised  his  brows. 

"  Dare  not  ?  You  can  put  those  words  out  of  your 
head,  Prince.  The  time  has  gone  by  when  international 
relations  could  affect  the  administration  of  our  courts  of 
justice.  Your  own  country  has  taught  us  the  absurdity 
of  such  a  policy.  We  have  learned  the  necessity  of 
protecting  our  own  at  any  cost — even  at  the  cost  of  war. 
You  will  be  tried,  and  hanged  for  the  murder  you  have 
committed." 

The  solemnity  of  Ruxton's  words  was  not  without  effect. 


384  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

A  curious  questioning  incredulity  crept  into  Von  Berger's 
desperate  eyes.  His  lips  parted  to  protest.  Then  they 
closed  again  in  a  spasm  of  pain.  But  a  moment  later  his 
cold  voice  was  speaking. 

"  There  is  no  power  on  earth  which  can  give  you  the 
right  to  hand  a  royal  prince  over  to  your  police,"  he  said. 
And  his  coldness  and  calmness  were  a  triumph  of  the  man 
over  physical  suffering. 

"  There  is  no  power  on  earth  which  will  stop  me  doing 
so — if  you  land  at  Dorby,  where  we  shall  presently  head 
for." 

Ruxton's  manner  was  frigidity  itself.  His  dark  eyes 
looked  steadily  into  the  other's. 

Quite  abruptly  a  hard,  mirthless  laugh  broke  the 
silence. 

"  If  I  land  ?  " 

"  If  you  land." 

"  Will  you  explain  ?  " 

Ruxton  shrugged  coldly. 

"  Is  there  need  ?  I  am  prepared  to  display  a  lenience 
which  is  the  only  mercy  you  need  hope  for.  You  will  be 
given  the  freedom  of  the  deck  for  half  an  hour.  We  are 
lying  awash.  There  is  only  a  bare  rail  about  it,  a  rail 
between  you  and  the  water.  After  that  we  return  at  once 
to  Dorby — and  the  authority  which  deals  with  every  com- 
mon felon." 

The  two  men  sat  eye  to  eye  for  a  few  moments.  It 
was  a  rapier-like  exchange  of  glances.  It  was  the  Prince 
who  yielded.  He  stirred.  A  sweat  had  broken  out  upon 
his  forehead.  His  physical  suffering  was  beyond  words. 
But  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  firmly  confronting  his 
antagonist. 


THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  WEEK-END  385 

"  I  will  accept — the  freedom  of  the  deck,"  he  said. 

Frederick  von  Berger  gazed  out  over  the  restless 
waters.  He  swayed  easily  to  the  added  motion  of  the 
now  stationary  vessel.  Twenty  feet  away  stood  the 
young  naval  officer  lounging  against  the  steel  casing  of 
the  doorway  of  the  conning-tower.  His  eyes  never  left 
his  charge.  Nor  could  he  help  a  faint  twinge  of  regret. 
He  had  been  brought  up  in  that  wonderful  school  of  the 
British  Navy  in  which  physical  bravery  counts  for  so  much, 
and  he  knew  that  such  was  not  lacking  in  the  man  whose 
movements  he  was  so  closely  following. 

The  night  was  clear  and  cold.  A  great  wealth  of  stars 
shone  down  upon  the  phosphorescent  waste  of  water.  So 
intense  was  their  brilliancy  that  even  the  distant  sky-line, 
towards  which  Von  Berger's  gaze  was  turned,  stood  out 
with  remarkable  clearness. 

Beyond  that  sky-line  lay  Germany — the  country  whose 
curious  fate  it  had  been  to  breed  a  race  of  brave  men  and 
brutes,  and  to  mould  them  into  the  single  form  of  a 
splendid  manhood.  To  that  country  the  motionless  figure 
belonged,  an  epitome  of  those  curious  racial  characteris- 
tics. Birth  had  given  him  the  place,  and  opportunity  the 
power.  Thus,  through  a  soulless  intellect  and  courage, 
he  had  been  able  to  help  in  the  fashioning  of  the  mon- 
strous machine,  as  yet  unbroken,  which  was  still  seeking 
to  plough  its  furrows  through  a  world's  spiritual  civiliza- 
tion for  its  own  ruthless  ends. 

Possibly  he  yearned  for  the  cradle  of  his  aspirations. 
Possibly  now,  now  that  it  lay  so  far  away,  hidden  beyond 
the  watery  limits,  he  felt  something  of  the  futility  of  the 
cold  striving  for  earthly  power.  If  it  were  so  his 
expression  gave  no  sign.  The  eyes  remained  the  same 


386  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

coldly  shining  windows  of  an  empty  soul.  The  hard 
mouth  was  tightly  shut,  and  the  muscles  of  his  square 
jaw  were  tense.  All  he  left  for  the  shining  eyes  of  the 
night  to  witness  were  the  beads  of  moisture  upon  his 
broad  forehead.  And  these  were  the  simple  outward 
signs  of  the  frailty  of  the  human  body,  its  vulnerability, 
its  narrow  limitations.  The  spirit  alone,  whatever  its 
quality,  remained  invincible. 

He  moved  a  step  nearer  the  steel  rail.  He  leant 
against  it.  Then,  for  some  terrible  moments,  from  the 
manner  in  which  he  nursed  his  injured  member,  agony 
seemed  to  supervene  and  shut  out  every  other  emotion. 

The  moments  passed.  The  young  naval  officer  shifted 
his  position.  The  strain  was  telling  upon  him. 

The  man  at  the  rail  moved  again.  His  gaze  was  with- 
drawn from  the  horizon.  It  was  turned  towards  the  sailor. 
The  officer  averted  his  gaze.  He  could  not  face  the  eyes 
which  were  yet  beyond  his  discernment.  He  knew  their 
expression  without  seeing  it.  He  understood  the  man's 
object.  This  was  the  moment  he  had  awaited.  The  Teu- 
tonic mind  was  silently  hurling  all  the  power  of  hate  and 
defiant  contempt  of  which  the  distorted  spirit  was  capable 
at  those  who  had  forced  him  to  his  final  desperate  act. 

There  was  the  faintest  sound  of  a  splash.  The  young 
officer's  eyes  came  back,  searching  for  his  charge.  But 
where  Frederick  von  Berger  had  stood  there  only  re- 
mained the  unbroken  line  of  the  rail. 

Then  a  voice  spoke  sharply  behind  him.  It  was  the 
voice  of  Ruxton  Farlow  conveying  orders  to  Captain 
Ludovic  in  the  turret. 

"  Dorby  without  delay,"  he  said.  "  The  pilot  will  pick 
us  up  at  the  Northbank  buoy." 


CHAPTER  XXX 

/ 
GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD 

THE  room  was  very  quiet.  A  wintry  sunbeam  glanced 
in  through  the  leaded  casement  and  fell  slanting  across 
the  floor,  lighting  up  the  occupied  four-post  bed.  A 
uniformed  nurse  was  occupied  at  a  bureau  which  stood 
in  the  window-place,  framed  in  the  floral  chintz  hangings 
which  seemed  to  suit  so  well  the  oaken  panelling  of  the 
room,  and  the  beams  with  which  the  ceiling  was  so  power- 
fully groined. 

The  doctor,  a  benevolent,  grey-whiskered,  cherub-eyed 
old  man,  who  had  cared  for  every  patient  at  Dorby 
Towers  since  the  Farlows  came  into  occupation,  was  at 
the  bedside  talking  gently  but  firmly  to  his  patient. 

"  It  is  useless,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  with,  for 
him,  an  almost  peevish  complaint.  "  I  have  done  all 
that  a  man  can  do.  I  have  pulled  you  clear  of  that 
wretched  brain-fever  which  threatened  you.  Your  poor, 
poor  arm  will  soon  be  out  of  its  plaster,  and  covered  with 
nothing  more  disfiguring  than  a  sling,  which  can  at  all 
times  be  made  to  match  your  costume,  and  yet  you  will 
do  nothing  to  help  me.  It  is  really  distressing.  You 
should  have  been  on  that  couch  two  weeks  ago.  A  week 
ago  you  should  have  been  moving  about  getting  your 
bodily  strength  back.  I  really  can't  understand  such 
obstinacy.  Eight  weeks  in  this  bed,  and  you  will  not, 
simply  will  not,  pull  yourself  up  sufficiently  to  allow 


388  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

your  being  moved.  You  know  it's  a  case  of  that  woman, 
Mrs.  Somebody,  in  one  of  Charles  Dickens's  books.  I 
don't  remember  the  name.  All  I  know  is  she  died,  or  did 
something  equally  silly,  because  she  wouldn't  make  an 
effort." 

Vita  gazed  back  languidly  into  the  fresh,  wholesome 
face  of  the  smiling  old  man.  She  was  so  tired.  She  was 
weary  with  thought.  She  knew  that  the  doctor  was 
making  a  just  complaint.  But  she  knew  something 
more.  She  knew,  half  by  instinct,  the  real  cause  of  the 
trouble  of  which  he  was  complaining. 

She  smiled  up  at  him  in  a  wan  fashion. 

"  I  am  not  as  much  to  blame  as  you  think,  doctor  dear. 
You  have  done,  oh,  so  much  for  me  that  I  feel  I  can  never 
be  grateful  enough.  May  I  sit  up  ?  " 

The  doctor  summoned  the  nurse,  and  Vita  was  tenderly 
propped  up  against  a  perfect  nest  of  pillows. 

"  That's  better.  Thank  you  ever  so  much.  Now  I  can 
talk,  and — I  want  to  talk." 

Vita  remained  silent  for  some  moments  in  spite  of  her 
expressed  desire. 

The  medical  man  watched  her  closely.  She  was  a 
mere  shadow  of  what  she  ought  to  be.  There  was  a 
troubled  look  in  her  eyes.  He  felt,  somehow  he  knew, 
what  was  coming.  It  was  a  request  such  as  he  had  been 
forced  to  deny  her  so  many  times  before. 

His  smile  died  out.  But  Vita's  eyes,  when  she  finally 
turned  them  on  him,  were  bright  with  an  emotion  which 
seemed  at  first  unwarranted. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  can't  get  well?"  she  enquired 
wistfully.  "  It  is  not  obstinacy.  It  is  not  lack  of  effort. 
It  is  because  you  won't  let  me.  Doctor  dear,  the  time 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  389 

has  surely  gone  by  when  I  may  not  talk  of — that  night. 
You  see,  you  don't  understand  it — all.  My  father  is 
dead.  1  know  that.  The  thought  is  always  with  me. 
But  that — that  is  not  all.  Everybody  here  is  kindness, 
kindness  itself.  Mr.  Farlow — Ruxton,  all  of  them.  They 
come  here.  But  they  are  never  allowed  to  stay.  They 
send  me  everything  which — kindness  can  dictate.  But, 
under  your  orders,  no  one  will  tell  me  those  things  I 
must  know,  and  I  am  not  permitted  to  say  a  word  of  that 
which  I  must  tell.  Doctor  dear,  it  is  you  who  are  to 
blame.  Oh,  the  worry  of  it  all.  It  seems  to  take  the 
very  life  out  of  me.  I  must  talk,"  she  went  on,  with 
growing  excitement.  "  I  must  tell  him  all  which  he  can 
never  learn  so  long  as  you  keep  me  silent.  Send  Ruxton 
to  me,  doctor  dear,  and  give  us  leave  to  talk  as  much  as 
we  want  to,  and  I  promise  you  you  shall  not  regret  it. 
I — I  simply  must  talk  or — or " 

But  the  growing  excitement  proved  too  much  for  her. 
In  her  weak  state  Vita  suddenly  fell  to  weeping  hyster- 
ically. The  nurse  and  doctor  leant  their  energies  to  calm- 
ing her,  and,  by  degrees,  their  efforts  were  rewarded. 

But  the  little  man's  face  was  troubled.  This  was  what 
he  feared,  dreaded. 

The  moment  Vita  had  calmed  again  he  chided  her  as 
he  might  chide  some  helpless  child,  but  he  registered  a 
mental  resolve.  Somehow  Vita  must  obtain  strength 

or Well,  he  had  done  all  he  knew.  He  must  leave 

medicine  and  look  to  the  psychological  side.  Experi- 
ment— he  hated  experiment  at  his  time  of  life.  But  there 
seemed  to  be  nothing  else  for  it  So  he  reassured  her 
and  gave  her  the  promise  she  asked. 

The  result  was  magical.     The  sick  woman's  face  lit 


390  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

radiantly.  Her  beautiful  grey  eyes  were  filled  with  such 
a  light  as  the  little  man  had  never  seen  in  them  before. 
He  wondered.  He  was  puzzled.  It  was  something 
which  he  could  not  understand. 

He  left  the  room,  taking  the  nurse  with  him,  and  as  he 
went  he  shook  his  head  and  warned  himself  that  the 
nervous  troubles  of  modern  times  were  amazing.  He 
felt  that  he  was  professionally  old — very  old. 

Nor  was  it  without  serious  misgivings  that  he  sought 
Ruxton  Farlow. 

For  an  hour  Vita  endured  the  efforts  of  the  nurse. 
She  endured  them  uncomplainingly.  She  felt  like  some 
small  child  being  prepared  for  a  party.  There  was  the 
pleasant  excitement  of  it,  but,  unlike  the  small  child, 
there  was  also  a  dread  which  all  the  delight  could  not 
banish. 

Her  troubles  were  very  real,  and  in  the  long  days  and 
nights  of  illness  which  had  seriously  threatened  her  mental 
balance,  and  the  dull  bodily  suffering  from  her  crushed 
arm,  they  had  become  exaggerated,  as  only  acute  suffer- 
ing can  distort  such  things. 

With  the  first  return  to  reason  she  had  hugged  to  her- 
self the  one  outstanding  fact  that  the  responsibility  of  her 
father's  death  lay  at  her  door.  It  stood  out  startlingly 
from  every  other  thought  in  the  tangle  of  her  poor  brain. 
She  had  urged  him  to  his  death,  unwittingly  it  is  true, 
but  due  solely  to  the  childish  credulity  she  had  displayed. 
Even  now  the  unforgettable  picture  of  that  grey,  lean 
figure  falling  forward  in  response  to  Von  Berger's  merci- 
less gun-shot  haunted  her  every  waking  moment.  The 
horror  of  it,  the  dreadful  cruelty.  And  all  her — her  doing. 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  391 

At  the  bottom  of  it  all  lay  her  cowardice,  her  miserable 
cowardice.  Her  life — her  wretched  life  had  been  threat- 
ened, and  to  escape  death  she  had  dragged  him  forth  and 
left  him  at  the  mercy  of  their  enemies.  To  her  dying  day 
the  memory  of  it  would  haunt  her.  She  knew  it  could 
never  be  otherwise. 

But  later,  as  slowly  some  strength  had  begun  to  return, 
an  added  trouble  came  to  her.  It  was  the  natural  result 
of  convalescence.  The  legitimate  selfish  interest  in  life 
inspired  it.  It  came  at  the  moment  when  Ruxton  had 
been  permitted  to  pay  his  first  brief  visit.  It  was  the 
sight  of  him  which  had  filled  her  with  dismay.  She  had 
suddenly  remembered  that  to  save  her  own  life  she  had 
not  only  dragged  her  father  to  his  death,  but  she  had 
sacrificed  this  man's  love  and  promised  to  become  the 
wife  of  the  detestable  Von  Salzinger.  From  that  moment 
the  little  troubled  doctor  had  noted  the  check  against 
which  he  had  been  fighting  ever  since. 

All  these  things  were  in  Vita's  mind  now  as  she  sub- 
mitted to  the  attentions  of  her  nurse.  The  blending  of 
excitement  and  dread  had  been  with  her  at  first,  but 
quickly  all  excitement  had  given  way  to  the  single  emo- 
tion which  grew  almost  to  a  panic,  when,  finally,  the 
nurse  withdrew,  leaving  her  ready  to  receive  the  man 
she  loved. 

Vita  leant  against  her  cushions  waiting  breathlessly. 
Her  courage  was  drawn  up  to  an  almost  breaking  point. 
She  longed  to  re-summon  the  nurse,  and  once  even  her 
uninjured  arm  was  outstretched  towards  the  electric  bell. 
But  she  did  not  ring.  She  had  asked,  nay  begged  for 
Ruxton's  visit.  She  resolutely  determined  to  face  him 
and  tell  him  all  the  miserable  truth.  He  would  despise 


392  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

her.  He  would  turn  from  her.  She  closed  her  eyes  to 
escape  the  picture  she  had  conjured  up  of  the  cold  look 
she  knew  his  handsome  dark  eyes  were  so  capable  of. 
But  he  must  know — he  must  know.  She  told  herself 
this,  and  she  told  herself  that  she  must  accept  her  fate  at 
his  hands  without  murmur.  It  was  a  just  punishment 
for  her 

The  sound  of  the  door-catch  moving  startled  her.  Her 
eager,  frightened  eyes  turned  swiftly  in  the  direction.  In 
a  moment  Ruxton  was  standing  in  the  room,  his  deep 
eyes  smiling  down  at  her  from  his  great  height. 

"Vital     My  Vita!" 

Just  for  one  moment  the  woman's  head  swam.  Her 
eyes  closed  and  it  seemed  that  she  was  about  to  faint. 
But  the  sensation  passed,  and  when  the  beautiful  grey 
depths  gazed  out  once  more  the  man  was  seated  on  the 
edge  of  the  bed,  holding  her  hand  clasped  under  the 
tender  pressure  of  both  his. 

"  My  poor  little  Vita  1     My  poor  darling  1 " 

The  tones  of  his  voice  were  tenderly  caressing.  They 
were  full  of  a  deep,  passionate  sympathy  and  love.  Vita 
thrilled  under  their  echo  in  her  own  soul.  But  there  was 
no  return  of  pressure  in  her  hand.  Her  eyes  gazed  back 
into  his  full  of  yearning,  but  they  seemed  to  have  lost 
their  power  of  smiling. 

"Ruxton,  dear "  she  began.  Then  she  broke  off 

as  though  powerless  to  bring  herself  to  tell  him  all  that 
lay  ready  marshalled  for  him  to  hear. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself,  dear.  Don't  bother  to  talk. 
It's  enough  for  me  to  be  here,  with  you,  and  know  you 
are  getting  well." 

It  was  his  final  words  which  spurred  her  courage.     She 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  393 

began  to  speak  rapidly,  and  almost  it  was  as  if  complaint 
were  in  her  tone. 

"  But  I  am  not  getting  well — yet.  That  is  what  Doctor 
Mellish  says,  and  that  is  why  I  must  talk.  Oh,  Ruxton, 
can't  you  understand?  I  can  never  get  well  until  I  have 
told  you — told  you  all  that  is  on  my  mind.  Dearest, 
dearest,  I  have  wronged  you,  oh,  how  I  have  wronged 
you,  and  all  because  I  am  a  coward,  a  miserable  wretched 
coward  who  dared  not  face  the  death  which  they  had 
marked  out  for  me.  It  is  that — that  which  brought  about 
poor  father's  death.  It  is  that  which  made  me  throw 
aside  the  love  which  was  all  the  world  to  me,  and 
promise  to  marry  the  man  who  pretended  that  he  was 
about  to  save  my  wretched  life." 

"  Von  Salzinger  ?  " 

The  question  came  with  unerring  instinct,  but  the  cold- 
ness for  herself  Vita  had  dreaded  was  lacking. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  childlike,  frightened  way. 

"  Tell  it  me.  Tell  it  me  all.  I  have  been  waiting  all 
these  weeks  to  learn  the  truth  of  all  that  happened  to  you 
— of  all  you  have  been  made  to  suffer  by  those  devils. 
Tell  me  everything,  from  the  moment  I  left  you  to  come 
up  here  to  await  your  father's  arrival." 

His  manner  was  so  gentle,  yet  so  firm.  His  eyes  still 
held  the  warm  smile  with  which  he  had  greeted  her. 
Vita's  courage  stole  back  into  her  veins,  and  her  poor, 
hammering  heart  slackened  its  beatings,  and  her  thoughts 
became  less  chaotic. 

Ruxton  waited  with  infinite  patience.  Time  was  for 
them  alone  just  now.  He  had  no  desire  to  lose  one 
moment  of  it. 

Presently  in  a  low  hurried  voice  Vita  began  her  story. 


394  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

She  made  no  attempt  to  convey  to  him  the  terror  through 
which  she  had  passed.  Yet  it  was  all  there.  It  lay  under 
every  word  she  uttered.  It  found  expression  in  the  bril- 
liancy of  her  eyes,  and  the  heated  color  which  leapt  to  her 
thin  cheeks.  Ruxton  read  it  all  as  if  he  were  witnessing 
the  whole  action  of  the  scenes  she  was  describing.  He 
not  only  read  it,  but  something  of  a  sympathetic  dread 
swept  through  him,  and  his  heart  set  him  wondering  how 
his  poor  troubled  love  had  managed  to  survive  the  horror 
of  all  she  must  have  endured. 

Vita  told  him  of  Von  Berger's  coming,  silently,  secretly 
to  Redwithy,  and  the  way  in  which  he  had  forced  her  to 
embark  on  that  journey  over  the  wild  moorlands  into  the 
heart  of  Somersetshire.  Then  she  told  him  of  the  impris- 
onment in  the  dreadful  valley.  She  hurried  on  to  the 
scene  when  Von  Berger  had  warned  her  of  her  condem- 
nation to  death.  After  that  she  paused,  gathering  her 
courage  for  what  was  next  to  come.  Her  eyes  gazed 
yearningly  into  her  lover's  now  serious  face.  Her  cour- 
age was  ebbing  fast.  Then  came  the  heartening  tones  of 
his  voice. 

"  Tell  it  all,  dearest.  You  have  nothing  to  fear.  Per- 
haps I  can  guess  it." 

Instantly  her  courage  rose,  and  she  poured  out  the 
story  of  her  renunciation  of  his  love,  that  she  might  be 
permitted  to  live.  And  in  her  renunciation  she  warned 
him  that  she  had  been  resolved  to  carry  it  out  to  the 
hideous  completion  of  marriage  with  Von  Salzinger. 

And  while  she  leant  back  on  her  cushions  pouring  out 
her  passionate  story,  Ruxton's  thoughts  were  less  on  her 
words  than  on  the  wonder  at  the  loyalty  and  honesty 
which  made  it  necessary  for  her  to  lay  bare  her  very  soul 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  395 

to  him  now,  revealing  every  weakness  which  she  believed 
to  be  hers.  Its  effect  upon  him  was  deep  and  lasting. 
Blame  ?  Where  could  there  be  blame  ?  The  thought 
became  the  maddest  thing  in  the  world  to  him.  His 
whole  soul  went  out  to  her  in  her  suffering.  All  he  felt 
he  longed  to  do  was  to  place  his  strong  arms  about  her 
and  defend  her  from  all  the  world ;  to  drive  off  even  the 
vaguest  shadow  of  memory  which  might  disturb  her. 

But  he  did  nothing.  Her  hand  lay  passive  in  his,  and 
he  waited  while  she  recounted  the  details  of  the  night 
journey  from  Somersetshire  to  the  North.  Then,  when 
she  came  to  the  final  scene  of  her  father's  death,  passion 
surged  through  his  veins,  and  he  rose  from  his  seat  on 
the  bed  and  paced  the  limits  of  the  room. 

"  The  treacherous  devils ! "  he  muttered.  "  The 
hounds !  Gad  !  they  could  not  beat  him,  so  they  played 
upon  a  woman,  a  defenseless  woman.  It  was  German. 
But  they  have  paid — both  of  them.  But  the  old  man  ! 
The  pity — the  pity  of  it.  If  I  could  only  have  saved 
him." 

Ruxton  was  not  addressing  her,  but  Vita  was  following 
his  every  word.  Now  she  caught  at  his  final  sentence. 

"  No  one  could,"  she  said,  with  a  deep  sigh.  "  I  led 
him  to  that  place  of  death,  as  surely  as " 

"  No,  no,  Vita  I  You  must  not  say  that.  You  are  no 
more  responsible  for  his  death  than  I  am.  Those  devils 
would  have  got  him.  If  not  in  one  way,  then  in  another. 
He  knew  it.  He  was  prepared  for  it.  He  told  me  him- 
self. No,  no,  you  did  right.  If  there  were  shortcomings 
they  were  mine.  I  did  not  see  far  enough.  Thank  God, 
at  least  I  contrived  to  save  you  from  the  fate  they  had 
prepared  for  you." 


396  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

Vita's  eyes  had  followed  his  restless  movement.  Now 
they  rested  upon  his  flushed  face  and  hot  eyes  as  he  re- 
turned to  his  seat  on  the  bed  and  took  possession  of  her 
hand  again.  , 

"Thank  God  for  your  life  and  safety,  dearest,"  he 
cried,  raising  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  pressing  it  to  them 
passionately.  "  It  was  the  nearest  thing.  It  turns  me 
cold  now  when  I  think  how  near.  Listen  and  I'll  tell  you 
my  side  of  it  all.  It's  not  a  very  brainy  side,  dear. 
There's  not  much  in  it  that's  particularly  creditable  to 
any  thinking  man.  Most  of  it  was  luck,  a  sort  of  miracu- 
lous good  fortune  added  to  an  inspiration  for  which  I 
mustn't  take  any  credit.  I'll  just  take  up  the  tale  where 
you  left  it,  but  from  the  other  side — the  side  whence  you 
might  well  have  expected  succor,  and  from  which,  very 
nearly,  there  was  none  forthcoming." 

He  paused.  He  leant  over  on  the  bed,  supporting 
himself  on  one  arm.  His  dark  eyes  were  shining  as  they 
dwelt  upon  the  well-loved  beauty  of  the  woman  who  was, 
perhaps,  at  that  moment,  more  than  ever  the  centre  of 
his  life. 

"  I  can't  tell  how  I  arrived  at  the  certainty  that  you 
were  in  the  power  of  these  devils,  and  were  being  forced 
unwittingly  to  further  their  schemes.  It  was  instinct,  it 
was — well,  whatever  you  like  to  call  it.  There's  no  need 
to  worry  you  with  the  manner  in  which  I  persuaded  your 
father  to  let  me  watch  over  him  in  his  going  from  these 
shores.  Nor  does  it  matter  the  small  things  I  prepared 
for  that  watch.  I'll  just  tell  you  what  happened. 

"  I  owe  a  good  deal  to  a  small  section  of  the  Navy,  in- 
cluding Sir  Joseph  Caistor  and  Sir  Reginald  Steele,  who 
were  both  spending  the  week-end  here.  Also  Com- 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  397 

mander  Sparling,  and  some  of  his  men,  who  are  in 
charge  of  the  new  constructions  at  the  yards.  Captain 
Ludovic  I  owe  something  to  for  his  shrewdness  and 
loyalty  and  tolerance.  These  are  the  elements  which 
contributed  so  largely  in  your  salvation. 

"  Well,  all  day  long  on  that  Sunday  a  light  cruiser  was 
standing  off  the  coast.  It  had  definite  instructions.  Yes, 
Sir  Joseph  had  ordered  it  there  to  help  me.  It  was  scout- 
ing for  a  submarine.  You  see,  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
that  there  would  be  a  German  submarine  in  the  matter. 
That  is  to  say,  if  my  fears  were  to  prove  well  founded. 
Sure  enough  one  turned  up  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
the  cruiser  picked  her  up  while  she  was  running  awash. 
We  got  the  signal  that  she'd  found  her.  Then  was 
played  a  wonderful  game  of  cat  and  mouse.  The  cruiser 
never  for  a  moment  let  it  out  of  her  sight.  When  dark- 
ness closed  she  just  ran  up  closer  and  played  about  with 
a  searchlight.  There  was  no  question  of  interfering  with 
or  even  '  speaking  '  her.  She  was  outside  the  three  miles. 
Then  about  six  o'clock  there  came  the  development.  The 
submarine  launched  a  boat  for  shore.  It  was  well 
manned,  and  she  drove  away  in  the  direction  of  the  cove. 
Then  the  cruiser  settled  to  her  work.  She  turned  her 
searchlight  right  on  to  the  vessel  lying  awash,  and  never 
left  it.  The  men  on  the  submarine  could  do  nothing 
which  could  not  be  seen  from  the  cruiser,  and,  to  make 
matters  more  exasperating,  the  cruiser  closed  right  in 
upon  her." 

Ruxton  paused  as  though  reviewing  and  criticizing  the 
scene,  to  observe  the  completeness  of  the  operation. 

"  You  must  understand,  dear,  what  was  in  my  mind 
to  make  this  necessary,"  he  went  on,  seeing  the  need 


398  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

for  explanation.  "  You  see,  I  knew  what  your  father's 
submersible  meant  to  Germany.  They  had  lost  the 
plans  of  the  U-rays  lamp.  Nor  had  they  any  models. 
The  only  installation  of  the  U-rays  was  on  the  sub- 
mersible. I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  if  there  was 
to  be  any  interference  with  your  father  they  meant 
capturing  his  vessel  too.  Besides,  it  would  be  simple 
from  their  view-point.  Your  father's  vessel  was  wholly 
unarmed. 

"Very  well.  What  were  the  intentions  with  a  sub- 
marine probably  full  of  German  naval  men  ?  It  seemed 
to  me  natural  that  while  their  boat  went  ashore,  in  pitch 
darkness,  to  take  off  your  father,  the  men  on  the  sub- 
marine would  set  about  securing  possession  of  the  sub- 
mersible the  moment  it  hove  in  sight.  How  right  I  was 
you  will  see.  However,  the  submarine  never  had  a 
chance.  She  could  not  escape  that  light.  She  dived 
again  and  again  to  avoid  it,  but  each  time  she  came  up 
the  light  picked  her  up  and  held  her.  Had  they  at- 
tempted to  launch  a  boat  the  cruiser  would  have  done 
the  same,  and  then  followed  it  up  whithersoever  it  went ; 
and,  had  there  been  an  attempt  to  board  the  submersible, 
our  boat  would  have  been  there  first.  The  skipper  of 
that  submarine  was  out-manoeuvred,  beaten — peaceably, 
but — beaten.  Nor  had  he  means  of  communicating  his 
trouble  to  those  in  the  boat  which  had  gone  ashore." 

Now  Ruxton's  manner  become  less  exultant  as  he  went 
on  after  a  brief  pause. 

"What  went  on  at  the  cove  you  know  better  than 
I.  That  was  the  chief  weakness  of  my  plans.  I 
stationed  a  number  of  the  confidential  Government 
agents  ready  to  lend  help  if  it  were  needed.  But  I 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  399 

had  been  driven  to  concentrating  on  the  ultimate  '  get 
away.'  That,  to  me,  stood  out  as  imperative.  I  had  to 
chance  the  other.  Therein  lay  my  blame  for  the  sacrifice 
of  your  father.  The  sound  of  shots  fired  told  its  tale,  but 
I  still  hoped." 

He  drew  a  deep  sigh  of  regret.  His  eyes  were 
troubled.  Now  he  went  on,  without  a  sign  of  elation. 

"  The  crucial  moment  came  when  it  was  seen  that  the 
pinnace,  loaded  well  down,  was  racing  towards  the  sub- 
mersible from  the  shore.  It  was  more  than  ticklish. 
However,  things  were  carefully  planned.  They  hailed 
the  submersible,  which  was  lying  awash.  They  found 
only  two  men  on  the  deck — your  father's  men,  and  Cap- 
tain Ludovic  in  the  conning-tower  doorway.  Von  Berger 
led  the  way  aboard,  and  Von  Salzinger  followed.  The 
former  glanced  at  the  men,  and  spoke  to  Ludovic.  In 
his  words  he  justified  my  whole  supposition.  He  asked 
for  a  Lieutenant  Rutter,  and  Ludovic,  in  assumed  sullen 
submission,  told  him  he  was  below  in  the  saloon.  Von 
Berger  was  satisfied.  He  only  waited  till  the  crew 
was  aboard,  and  you,  lying  unconscious  in  the  arms 
of  one  of  his  men,  and  your  father's  body  supported 
by  two  others,  had  been  conveyed  down  below.  Then 
he  gave  Ludovic  orders  to  head  at  full  speed  for  Cux- 
haven,  and,  if  followed,  to  submerge.  He  said  that  the 
man  Rutter  would  be  sent  up  to  see  he  played  no  tricks. 
Then  he  and  Von  Salzinger  went  below,  and  the  steel 
door  of  the  conning-tower  was  made  fast. 

"  The  rest — do  you  need  it  ?  It  was  a  bloody  affair. 
You  and  your  dead  father  were  taken  into  the  saloon. 
Von  Berger  and  Von  Salzinger  followed.  Then  Von 
Berger  dismissed  the  men,  who  went  out  while  he 


400  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

looked  round  for  Rutter.  But  in  a  moment  he  under- 
stood what  was  happening.  As  the  men  left  the  saloon 
they  were  set  upon.  They  fought  like  demons,  but  were 
either  overpowered  or  shot  down.  Von  Berger  slammed 
the  saloon  door  closed,  and  strove  to  hold  it.  But  as 
well  try  to  hold  a  rabbit-hutch  against  a  tornado.  They 
were  caught.  Caught,  as  I  heard  Von  Salzinger  say, 
like  rats  in  a  trap." 

"  You — you  were  there — in  the  submersible  ?" 

Vita's  eyes  were  shining  with  a  world  of  emotion. 
The  story  had  caught  her  and  swept  her  along  with  it. 
A  great  pride  was  in  her  heart.  This  man  had  risked 
all,  everything  for  her  father  and  herself. 

"Oh,  yes.  But  I  wasn't  by  any  means  alone.  Young 
Sparling  and  twenty  of  his  bluejackets  from  the  yards 
had  been  secreted  aboard.  But — it  was  deadly  work. 
How  I  escaped  without  a  scratch  I  don't  know.  Five 
of  our  men  got  wounded.  Von  Berger  fought  like  a 
fury.  The  other,  Von  Salzinger,  went  out  suddenly  at 
the  outset.  I'm  not  sure  who  brought  him  down. 
Sparling  and  I  fired  simultaneously.  I  hope  it  was 
my  shot  that  sent  him — home.  But  Von  Berger  was 
wonderful.  It  was  not  until  we  had  crushed  his  wrist 
and  hand  in  the  fighting  that  he  was  overpowered.  He 
was  a  veritable  Hercules." 

Vita  had  listened  almost  breathlessly.  Now  her  en- 
quiry came  in  a  low,  eager  tone. 

"And  Von  Berger — what  happened  after  he  was  over- 
powered ?  " 

Ruxton  hesitated. 

"  It  was  he  who  killed  my  father,"  Vita  reminded  him. 

"  Yes." 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  401 

"  Tell  me." 

Ruxton  had  no  alternative. 

"We  had  a  talk — he  and  I.  The  result?  He  was 
given  an  alternative.  The  hangman's  rope  here  ashore, 
or  half  an  hour's  freedom  of  the  submersible's  deck." 

Vita  nodded.     She  understood. 

"  And  he  chose  ?  " 

"  The  deck.     You  see  he  was  a  royal  prince." 

•'  Yes." 

Neither  seemed  inclined  to  break  the  silence  that  fol- 
lowed. Each  was  thinking  of  the  scenes  which  must 
have  been  enacted.  Ruxton,  as  he  had  witnessed  them. 
Vita,  as  her  imagination  portrayed  them. 

Finally  it  was  Vita  who  spoke  in  a  whisper  that  became 
almost  startling. 

"  The  others — the  crew  of  the  boat  ?  " 

"  They  have  been  all  sent  back  to  Germany — via  Hol- 
land. They  were  all  held  here  till  the  wounded  had  re- 
covered. Then  they  went  away  together." 

But  Vita's  eyes  were  wide  with  apprehension. 

"  But  the  secret.  The  secret  of  it  all  will  reach  Berlin. 
It  will  reach  even  to " 

Ruxton  smiled. 

"  Precisely  what  was  intended  and — hoped.  It  has  done 
so.  We  know  that.  We  have  had  the  most  curious  and 
subtle  enquiries  from  the  Berlin  authorities.  They  dared 
not  openly  accuse.  We  have  replied.  Our  Foreign 
Office  formulated  the  reply.  .  They  have  been  told  that  a 
murder  was  committed  upon  the  Yorkshire  coast — the 
murder  of  a  German  named  Von  Hertzwohl.  It  was  com- 
mitted by  a  rascally  crew  of  Germans,  headed  by  one, 
Von  Berger,  and  assisted  by  another,  Von  Salzinger. 


402  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

These  seem  to  have  been  the  names  they  were  known  by, 
though  the  police  think  they  were  probably  aliases.  Un- 
fortunately the  gang  got  away  in  boats.  However,  the 
leaders  came  to  an  untimely  end  in  the  pursuit  by  the 
police.  One  shot  himself — the  one  called  Von  Salzinger. 
The  other,  Von  Berger,  who  seems  to  have  been  injured, 
tried  to  escape  by  going  overboard  from  the  boat  in  which 
he  was  endeavoring  to  get  away.  The  Foreign  Office  has 
regretted  that  it  can  obtain  no  further  information  which 
might  be  of  use  to  Berlin." 

"  But  it  is  a  challenge,"  cried  Vita  in  an  awed  voice. 

Ruxton's  smile  broadened. 

"  So  it  was  intended."  He  shook  his  head.  "  But  it  is 
a  challenge  they  dare  not  take  up.  Furthermore,  it 
should  leave  us  in  peace  to  complete  the  work  your  poor 
father  has  so  well  begun." 

Ruxton  rose  from  his  seat  on  the  bed.  He  moved  away, 
across  to  the  leaded  window,  from  which  the  sunbeam  had 
long  since  passed.  He  gazed  out  across  the  leafless  trees 
of  the  park  towards  the  drab  of  the  moorland  beyond. 
He  was  not  unaffected  by  his  own  story.  He  knew  how 
much  more  it  must  mean  to  Vita.  He  waited.  He  was 
waiting  for  a  summons  which  he  felt  would  come  in  Vita's 
own  good  time. 

A  few  minutes  passed  and  then  it  came.  He  turned 
about  and  smiled  over  at  the  sweet  grey  eyes  which  were 
so  frankly  appealing.  There  was  a  change,  a  great 
change  in  them.  All  the  trouble  seemed  to  have  passed 
out  of  them.  And  the  weary  brain  behind  them  seemed 
at  last  to  have  found  that  rest  it  so  seriously  needed. 

"  Ruxton,"  she  murmured.  "  Can  you — can  you  ever 
forgive  me  for — what " 


GAZING  UPON  A  NEW  WORLD  403 

The  man  was  at  the  bedside  again.  This  time  he  was 
not  sitting-.  He  was  leaning  across  it,  and  his  arms  were 
outstretched  and  thrust  about  her  soft,  warm  body,  where 
she  leant  against  the  cushions.  His  face  was  drawn  up 
within  a  few  inches  of  hers.  His  eyes  were  on  a  level 
with  hers.  They  were  smiling  into  the  deeps  of  grey 
beauty  before  them.  Nay,  the  tragedy  of  it,  he  was 
laughing  into  them. 

"  Promising  to  marry  Von  Salzinger  ?  If  I  had  been  in 
your  place  I  shouldn't  have  promised.  I'd  have  married 
him  right  off  if  it  were  to  save  me  from  being  murdered." 
Then  his  laugh  died  out  abruptly.  "  Don't  think  of  it, 
my  beautiful  Vita.  Don't  ever  let  the  thought  of  it  enter 
your  dear,  dear  head  again.  If  ever  a  poor  defenceless 
woman  went  through  an  earthly  hell,  you  did.  Sweet- 
heart, it's  my  sole  purpose  in  life  now  to  endeavor  to 
place  you  in  an  earthly  heaven." 

He  drew  her  to  him  in  a  passionate  embrace.  And  so 
their  lips  met  and  lingered. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS 

THE  shock  which  electrified  London  was  reminiscent  of 
the  shocks  to  which  it  was  submitted  in  the  early  days  of 
the  war,  when  the  "  Yellow  "  press  ran  riot,  and  journal- 
ists dipped  deeply  into  their  reservoirs  of  superlatives  to 
generate  the  current  of  sensation  which  should  sell  their 
papers. 

It  was  a  misty  afternoon,  with  an  almost  intangible  yet 
saturating  drizzle  ;  a  setting  admirably  fitting  an  evening 
newspaper  thrill.  Spirits  were  at  a  sufficiently  low  ebb 
for  something  of  a  screaming  nature.  Fleet  Street  did  its 
best ;  a  best  at  no  time  to  be  despised. 

It  came  as  the  homeward  rush  began  from  the  offices 
of  the  great  metropolis.  It  stared  out  from  street  corners 
and  the  fronting  of  bookstalls.  It  looked  up  from  the 
greasy  pavements.  It  served  to  hide  a  portion  of  the 
rags  which  hung  about  the  nether  limbs  of  small  street 
urchins.  It  came  in  strident,  raucous  tones  upon  the 
moisture-laden  atmosphere.  There  was  no  escaping  it. 
That  which  escaped  the  eyes  thrust  itself  upon  defenceless 
ear.  And  its  urgent  note  created  the  necessary  excitement 
in  minds  set  upon  the  task  of  making  the  homeward 
journey  with  the  least  possible  delay. 

Then,  at  once,  the  careless  eye  was  caught  and  held. 
"  Under  Water  :  The  World  Defied,"  cried  one  contents 
bill.  "  The  New  Submersible  Merchantman,"  announced 


AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS  405 

one  of  the  more  sedate  journals.  "  The  Great  Problem 
Solved,"  cryptically  suggested  a  buff-tinted  sheet.  "  From 
Downing  Street  to  the  Deeps,"  smiled  the  more  flippant 
pink  announcement.  And  so  on  through  the  whole 
jargon  of  the  press  poster.  There  was  no  escape  from  it. 
The  word  "  submersible  "  seemed  to  fill  the  whole  of  the 
wretched  winter  atmosphere.  And,  as  was  intended,  it 
caught  the  London  fancy,  and  deflected  purpose  into  the 
channel  it  desired. 

London  was  startled ;  and  when  London  is  startled  by 
its  press  it  is  no  niggard.  Therefore  the  rain  of  coppers 
which  set  in  became  perilously  near  a  deluge.  The  small 
boys  snatched,  and  the  old  sinners  with  grey  whiskers 
and  weather-stained  faces  swept  in  their  harvest.  The 
bookstall  attendants  dealt  out  their  papers  in  a  steady, 
accurate  stream,  and,  within  an  hour,  the  whole  of  Lon- 
don's democracy  had  formulated  its  definite  opinion  upon 
the  new  adventure,  in  the  dogmatic  manner  of  the  British 
ratepayer. 

Strange  and  mixed  were  many  of  the  opinions  which 
flew  from  lip  to  lip  in  the  overcrowded  homeward  bound 
trains  and  'buses.  True,  there  were  many  who  read  the 
well-told  story  of  the  skilful  journalist  as  they  might  read 
a  sensational  tale  in  a  sixpenny  magazine.  They  enjoyed 
it.  They  devoured  it  hungrily.  Then  they  passed  on  to 
the  sports  page,  and  considered  the  doings  of  their  favor- 
ites in  the  sporting  world.  But  the  suburban  ratepayer, 
the  householder  whose  responsibilities  left  him  no  alter- 
native but  to  take  himself  seriously,  was  of  a  different 
calibre.  He  possesses  to  the  full  the  stolid,  fault-finding 
mind  of  the  British  race.  He  is  as  full  of  prejudice  as 
the  egg  is  supposed  to  be  full  of  meat.  He  is  ready  at 


406  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

ail  times  to  hurl  blame  and  anathema  at  the  heads  of 
those  who  conspire  to  extract  from  his  pocket  the  nec- 
essary funds  to  contrive  that  he  shall  live  in  security  and 
comfort  in  his  home.  He  is  the  victim  of  a  splendid  pes- 
simism for  all  things  except  his  summer  holiday.  His 
opinions  come  like  a  shot  from  a  gun. 

He  read  with  incredulity  until  he  arrived  at  the  point 
where  he  felt  righteously  he  could  open  afresh  the  rut  of 
his  ever-ready  disapproval.  Then  the  full  force  of  what 
he  read  percolated  heavily  through  his  fog  of  prejudiced 
incredulity,  and  virtuous  indignation  supervened. 

"  What  was  this  absurd  nonsense  ?  Who  ever  heard 
of  submersible  merchantmen?  What  fresh  folly  of  the 
Government  was  coming  now?  The  Prime  Minister  on 
the  trial  trip.  Why  the  devil  didn't  he  stick  to  his  job 
in  Downing  Street?  The  moment  these  fellows  got  their 
five  thousand  a  year  they  didn't  care  a  hang  for  the 
country.  Playing  about  with  these  toys  of  some  crazy 
inventor.  It  made  one  sick.  Anyway,  if  the  Govern- 
ment were  concerned  in  the  scheme,  why  was  it  kept 
secret  ?  Why  wasn't  the  taxpayer  told  of  it  ?  Who  was 
making  the  money  out  of  it?  Somebody.  There  was 
always  graft  in  these  secret  things.  There  was  too  much 
of  this  hole-in-the-corner  business — entirely  too  much. 
Altogether  too  much  disregard  for  the  liberty  of  the  sub- 
ject," etc.,  etc. 

But  the  Fleet  Street  chorus  of  "  epochs  "  and  "  masterly 
moves"  and  "strokes  of  statesmanship"  found  an  abid- 
ing echo  amongst  the  optimists.  They  saw,  with  eyes 
wide  open,  that  which  they  read.  There  was  no  grumble 
in  them.  Why  should  there  be  ?  That  which  they  read 
told  them  clearly  of  success.  It  told  them  that  never 


AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS  407 

again  would  Britain's  overseas  commerce  be  placed  in 
jeopardy  from  enemy  attack  in  time  of  war ;  that  is,  if 
British  enterprise  would  only  rise  to  the  opportunity  af- 
forded. That  was  simple  enough.  Of  course  the  ship- 
owners would  see  their  advantage.  Germany — pah  1 

The  men  who  personally  felt  aggrieved,  however,  were 
the  professional  politicians  and  the  private  Member. 
These  men  were  seriously  perturbed.  Here  was  real 
limelight,  and  they  were  not  in  it !  Horrible  thought  1 
Their  course  lay  clearly  before  them.  An  attack  upon 
inoffensive  paper,  by  a  pen,  erroneously  believed  to  be 
mightier  than  the  sword,  was  their  only  hope  of  making 
up  leeway.  So  those  who  had  sufficient  influence  hurled 
broadcast  the  next  morning,  in  their  favorite  daily  papers, 
a  wealth  of  ill-considered  and  Valueless  criticism  and 
opinion  of  something  which  they  were  splendidly  incom- 
petent to  judge. 

And  the  cause  of  all  the  sensation  ?  It  was  so  small 
an  incident,  and  yet  so  tremendous  in  its  omen  for  the 
future.  Just  the  story  of  a  number  of  eminent  men,  Cab- 
inet Ministers,  naval  and  army  men,  and  one  or  two 
great  ship-builders,  running  a  blockade  of  warships,  and 
successfully  shipping  a  cargo  of  pretended  contraband  of 
war  from  Dundee  to  Gravesend.  The  game  had  been 
played  in  deadly  earnest.  It  was  a  test  trip  for  a  new 
type  of  submersible  cargo  and  passenger  vessel,  pitting 
its  powers  against  the  concentrated  might  of  a  large 
squadron  of  the  British  Navy.  It  was  a  test  of  efficiency. 
The  details  were  simple  in  the  extreme.  The  laden  ves- 
sel, carrying  a  thousand  tons  of  merchandise  and  its 
burden  of  passengers,  was  lying  at  Dundee.  Outside, 
watching  and  waiting  for  its  appearance  on  the  high 


408  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

seas,  lay  a  powerful  squadron  of  the  British  Navy.  The 
rules  laid  down  were  that  the  submersible  should  make 
its  way  to  Gravesend,  and  the  naval  squadron,  under  war 
conditions,  was  to  capture  it,  or  place  it  in  such  a  posi- 
tion as  to  be  sinkable,  by  any  means  in  its  power,  at  any 
point  upon  its  journey. 

The  result.  With  all  the  skill  and  power  at  its  com- 
mand the  great  surface  squadron  had  proved  its  helpless- 
ness. The  submersible  had  slipped  out  of  port  under 
cover  of  darkness,  and  from  that  moment,  until  its  arrival 
at  Gravesend,  the  seas  had  been  scoured  vainly  for  so 
much  as  a  sight  of  it. 

It  was  a  tremendous  thought.  It  was  a  splendid  vic- 
tory for  the  pacifist  hope.  The  dead  Polish  inventor  had 
been  justified  beyond  all  question.  Never  had  the  word 
"epoch,"  such  as  Fleet  Street  loves,  been  better  used. 
It  was  such  a  moment  that  those  who  made  the  secret 
journey,  and  witnessed  the  capabilities  of  the  vessel 
which  had  been  built  at  the  Dorby  yards,  were  flung 
back  from  all  preconceived  convictions  of  maritime 
affairs,  established  during  the  war,  to  imaginative  spec- 
ulation upon  the  vista  of  progress  now  opened  up. 

Not  a  man  of  them,  from  the  Prime  Minister  of  Eng- 
land down  to  the  junior  lieutenant  upon  the  vainly  striving 
fleet  of  war-vessels,  but  realized  a  picture  of  the  doom  of 
the  magnificent  and  costly  super-Dreadnought  as  the 
pillar  of  might  upon  which  naval  power  must  rest.  Its 
proud  office  gone,  it  appeared  to  them  as  little  greater 
than  a  means  of  defence  against  the  landing  of  hostile 
man  power  upon  Britain's  vulnerable  shores.  The  proud 
queens  of  the  sea  must  pass  from  their  exalted  thrones  to 
a  lesser  degree  in  naval  armaments. 


AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS  409 

Nor  was  the  realization  without  pity  and  regret.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise  in  the  human  heart  which  ever  wor- 
ships the  actual  display  of  might  ?  It  almost  seemed  as 
if  the  world  had  been  suddenly  given  over  to  topsy- 
turveydom. 

The  facts,  however,  were  irrefutable.  As  in  the  dim 
past  the  troublous  surface  of  the  seas  had  been  conquered 
by  the  intrepid  and  skilful  mariner,  now  at  last  the 
devious  submarine  channels  had  been  turned  into  an 
almost  equally  secure  highway  of  traffic  by  the  inventor. 
The  march  of  progress  was  continuing.  It  was  invention 
triumphant.  The  world's  sea-borne  commerce  was  se- 
cured. It  was  held  safe  from  enemy  war-craft  in  the 
future.  Therefore  the  doom  of  the  proud  battleship  had 
been  sounded. 

Some  day,  perhaps,  a  new  weapon  would  be  achieved. 
Some  day,  perhaps,  even  the  channels  of  the  dark  waters 
would  be  rendered  insecure  by  the  hand  that  had  now 
made  them  safe.  For  the  present,  however,  and  probably 
for  years  to  come,  the  sea-borne  food  supplies  of  Britain 
stood  in  no  position  of  jeopardy. 

It  was  well  past  midnight.  The  house  in  Smith  Square 
quite  suddenly  displayed  renewed  signs  of  life.  A  closed 
motor  had  driven  up,  paused,  and  then  passed  on.  Then 
appeared  many  lights  behind  the  small-paned  Georgian 
windows. 

Ruxton  Farlow  had  returned  home  with  his  wife  after 
a  strenuous  and  exciting  day  ;  and  with  them  was  their 
devoted  Yorkshire  father,  burning  with  the  sense  of  a 
great  triumph  for  his  beloved  son,  and  his  almost  equally 
beloved  daughter. 

Their  journey  from  Gravesend  earlier  in  the  evening 


410  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

had  been  broken  that  they  might  attend  an  informal 
dinner-party  at  Downing  Street.  It  was  a  function  en- 
tirely in  honor  of  the  masters  of  Dorby ;  and  it  had  been 
arranged  that  Ruxton's  colleagues  in  the  country's 
Cabinet  might  tender  their  sincere  congratulations  and 
thanks  for  the  work  which  he,  and  his  father,  and  his 
wife  had  achieved  privately  in  their  country's  cause. 

It  was  over ;  and  all  three  were  relieved  and  thankful. 
But  the  note  of  triumph  surging  through  their  hearts  was 
still  dominant.  Scarcely  a  word  had  passed  between 
them  in  the  brief  run  from  Downing  Street  to  Smith 
Square.  Their  hearts  were  as  yet  too  full,  and  the 
memory  of  the  words  addressed  to  them  by  Sir  Meeston 
and  his  colleagues  was  still  too  poignant  to  permit  of 
normal  conditions.  Vita  had  leant  back  in  the  car,  with 
her  husband's  arm  linked  through  hers,  and  one  of  his 
powerful  hands  clasped  in  hers.  She  sat  thus  with  thought 
teeming,  and  a  heart  thrilling  with  an  unspeakable  joy, 
and  happiness,  and  triumph,  all  for  the  man  at  her  side. 
Her  own  share  in  the  events  through  which  they  had 
passed  was  entirely  forgotten  by  her.  This  man  at  her 
side  filled  her  whole  focus.  He  was  all  in  all  to  her,  as 
she  felt  he  was  all  in  all  to  the  cause  in  which  they  had 
worked. 

It  was  perhaps  the  profoundest  and  proudest  moment 
of  her  life.  It  was  a  moment  of  perfect  happiness.  All 
she  had  ever  dreamed  of  was  hers ;  and  the  hand  of  the 
man  she  worshipped  was  even  now,  warm  and  strong, 
clasped  tightly  in  her  own.  Hers  to  keep ;  hers  to  lean 
on ;  hers  never  to  yield  so  long  as  their  lives  should  last. 

In  the  house  they  passed  up  into  the  small  drawing- 
room,  and,  for  a  few  moments,  they  sat  there  before 


AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS  411 

retiring.  Slowly  the  spell  of  the  day's  events  fell  from 
them.  It  was  finally  Sir  Andrew  who  released  them 
from  it. 

He  gazed  across  at  Vita  with  twinkling  eyes.  His 
smile  was  full  of  kindly  tenderness. 

"  Now,  perhaps,  I  shall  have  time  to  appreciate  the  fact 
that  at  last  I  am  the  happy  possessor  of  a  beautiful 
daughter  as  well  as  a  headstrong  son,"  he  said.  Then, 
after  the  briefest  hesitation :  "  Vita,  my  dear,"  he  went 
on,  in  his  old-fashioned  manner,  while  his  gaze  took  in 
the  radiant  beauty  turned  abruptly  towards  him,  "it 
seems  to  me  that  the  most  wonderful  thing  in  the  world 
has  happened  to  me.  The  long,  lonely  life  seems  to  have 
entirely  passed.  I  mean  the  loneliness  which  only  a  man 
can  feel  who  is  deprived  for  all  time  of  the  association  of 
his  own  womankind.  Now  at  last  I  can  draw  deep  com- 
fort from  the  reflection  of  Ruxton's  happiness.  Now, 
however  slight  my  claim,  I  can  nevertheless  claim  some- 
thing of  a  woman's  filial  regard.  The  grey  of  life  has 
been  tinted  for  me  since  you  have  chosen  to  make  my 
boy  happy,  and  as  time  goes  on  I  can  see  that  tint  de- 
velop into  the  roseate  hue  of  a  happiness  I  somehow 
never  thought  to  feel  again.  Bless  you,  my  dear,  for 
coming  into  an  old  man's  life ;  and  you,  too,  my  boy," 
he  went  on,  turning  to  the  smiling  Ruxton,  "  for  having 
given  me  such  a  daughter.  I  feel  this  is  the  moment  for 
saying  this.  The  work  is  done  now  in  workmanlike 
fashion,  and  the  little  triumph  of  it  all  makes  me  want  to 
tell  you  of  this  thing  that  I  feel." 

Vita  impulsively  left  her  husband's  side.  She  rose  from 
the  settee  and  crossed  over  to  her  second  father  and  held 
out  both  her  hands. 


412  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

"  You  have  made  it  difficult  for  me  to  say  a  word " 

she  began,  smiling  down  upon  him  with  her  glorious 
eyes.  Then  she  seemed  to  become  speechless. 

The  oriflamme  of  her  red-gold  hair  shone  with  a  deli- 
cious burnish  under  the  shaded  electric  light.  Her 
flushed  oval  cheek  glowed  with  a  suggestion  of  thrilling 
happiness.  The  old  man  caught  and  held  her  hands, 
and,  the  next  moment,  she  had  bent  her  slimly  graceful 
body  and  impressed  upon  his  rugged  cheek  a  kiss  of  deep 
affection. 

Still  she  remained  speechless,  and  she  turned  and 
glanced  with  dewy  eyes  in  appeal  to  the  great  husband 
looking  on. 

"  Won't  you  help  me  ?  "  she  demanded  wistfully. 

Ruxton  laughed  happily. 

"  Help  ?  "  he  said  quickly.  Then  he  shook  his  head. 
"  No,  no.  You  don't  need  any  help.  Just  tell  him  what 
you  once  told  me.  You  remember."  His  eyes  became 
serious.  "  You  said  '  I  love  him  almost  as  if  he  were 
really  my  own  father.'  He  won't  need  more." 

And  Vita  obeyed  him,  reciting  the  words  almost  like 
some  child.  But  she  meant  them,  and  felt  them,  and  at 
the  last  word  her  glance  was  full  of  a  whimsical  light  as 
she  added  of  her  own  initiative  — 

"  And  aren't  you  two  dears  going  to  smoke  ?  " 

Half  an  hour  later  the  two  men  were  sitting  alone  in 
Ruxton's  study.  The  smoke  of  their  cigars  hung  heavily 
upon  the  air  of  the  room.  There  had  come  a  moment  of 
profound  silence  between  them.  They  had  talked  of  the 
happenings  of  that  day  :  of  the  test  of  their  new  submer- 
sible :  its  simple  triumph,  and  all  it  meant  in  the  cause  of 


AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS  413 

humanity,  of  that  progress  towards  a  lasting  peace  among 
nations  which  mankind  was  yearning  to  achieve. 

Each  man  had  offered  his  own  view-point  for  discus- 
sion, and  it  seemed  as  if  the  last  word  had  at  length  been 
spoken.  But  they  sat  on  in  silence,  and  Sir  Andrew 
watched  the  reflective  eyes  of  his  idealist  son.  He  was 
speculating  as  to  what  deep  thought  still  lay  unvoiced 
behind  them,  and  he  urged  him. 

"  Well,  boy  ?  It  has  been  a  long  day.  Is  it  bed  ?  Or 
are  you  going  to  put  into  words  that  dream  I  see  moving 
behind  your  eyes  ?  " 

Ruxton  broke  into  a  short,  nervous  laugh  which  died 
out  with  a  curious,  sober  abruptness. 

"  Dreams,  dreams  ?  I  wonder  if  they  are  only  dreams. 
If  they  are  dreams  they  are  surely  vivid  enough — pain- 
fully vivid."  He  paused  for  an  infinitesimal  fraction. 
"  No,  no,  Dad,  I  am  no  visionary  in  the  sense  that 
imagination  runs  away  with  me.  I  see  many  things  that 
every  other  man  sees,  and  it  is  only  a  question  of  different 
reading.  What  do  you  think  the  majority  of  people  in 
this  country  will  do  when  they  really  understand  all  that 
our  little  adventure  means  ?  They  will  metaphorically 
fling  up  their  hats,  and  deride  the  wretched  Teuton,  and 
his  merciless  delight  in  the  slaughter  of  innocent  life  upon 
the  high  seas.  In  a  few  years'  time,  when  they  see  our 
sea-borne  traffic  carried  by  great  submersibles  of  eight 
and  ten  thousand  tons,  their  confidence  will  be  unbounded, 
and  they  will  reiterate  again  the  old  song  '  Britannia 
Rules  the  Waves,'  and — they  will  have  justice  on  their 
side.  But  the  questions  which  I  ask  myself,  which  I  must 
keep  on  asking  myself,  are — '  Does  Britannia  rule  the 
waves  ?  Can  she  continue  to  rule  the  waves  ?  '  " 


4H  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

He  shook  his  head,  and  gently  removed  the  ash  from 
his  cigar. 

"  In  spite  of  all  the  evidence,  in  spite  of  our  wholly 
promising  new  move  for  protecting  our  overseas  traffic,  in 
spite  of  the  brilliant  manner  in  which  our  Navy  has  met, 
and  defeated,  every  ingenious  method  of  attack  by  our 
enemies  in  the  past,  I  do  not  believe  we  can  ever  hope  to 
continue  indefinitely  our  rule  of  the  seas,  or  even  the  safe- 
guarding of  our  overseas  traffic. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  everybody  will  say  in  answer  to 
such  a  statement,"  he  went  on,  in  reply  to  the  interroga- 
tory in  his  father's  eyes.  "  But  they  are  wrong,  a  thou- 
sand times  wrong,"  he  declared,  almost  passionately.  "  It 
is  no  sound  argument  or  real  logic  that  what  we  have 
done  for  the  past  few  hundred  years  we  can  continue  to 
do.  Our  men  are  giants  among  the  men  of  the  sea.  But 
they  are  only  human.  The  days  of  '  wait  and  see'  are 
over.  We  must  not  wait  for  trouble  to  arise  to  attempt 
its  counter.  We  must  look  ahead  with  all  the  experience 
of  the  late  war  behind  us.  The  reason  we  rule  the  seas 
at  the  moment — if  we  do  rule  them — is  because  we  are  an 
island  country,  and  because  our  past  necessities  have 
forced  us  to  stride  far  ahead  in  maritime  affairs  of  all 
other  nations,  while  they  possessed  no  full  realization  of 
the  value  of  sea  power.  But  the  late  war  has  shown  us 
that  now,  at  last,  every  country  in  the  world  understands 
to  the  full  the  necessity  for  wresting  from  any  one  Power 
the  dominance  of  the  seas.  Look  back.  Germany  was 
fighting  for  sea  power  as  greatly  as  she  was  fighting  for 
anything  else.  Russia,  that  vast  land-locked  world,  could 
only  hope  for  an  outlet  to  the  sea  as  a  result  of  all  her 
sacrifice.  The  Balkan  countries,  their  national  aspirations, 


AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS  415 

every  one  of  them  was  a  harbor  on  the  high  seas. 
The  whole  world  intends  to  possess  each  its  share  of 
the  great  waterways,  without  fear  of  the  dominance  of 
any  one  nation.  It  is  plain,  plain  as  the  writing  on  the 
wall. 

"  I  solemnly  submit  that  Britain's  power,  her  domina- 
tion of  the  seas,  cannot  stand  for  all  time.  And  the 
reason — it  is  so  simple,  so  terribly  simple.  Just  as  our 
strength  now  lies  in  the  seas,  so  does  our  weakness. 
Every  moment  of  our  lives  the  threat  of  starvation 
stares  into  our  haunted  eyes,  and  we,  like  hunted  men, 
search  and  search  for  a  means  to  ward  it  off.  Do  you 
see  ?  I  could  weep  for  those  who  will  not  see.  The 
Germans  were  just  not  clever  enough,  that  is  all.  They 
saw  the  weakened  links  in  our  armor,  and  endeavored 
to  drive  home  the  attack  when  they  attempted  their 
submarine  blockade.  But  their  attempt  lacked  ade- 
quate preparation.  This  is  all  ancient  history,  but  it 
points  in  the  direction  I  would  have  men  look.  The 
result  of  that  has  been  to  make  us  further  consolidate 
our  defences.  The  completion  of  that  comes  in  our  new 
submersible.  But,  remember,  we  are  defending  only 
against  known  forces — not  the  unknown.  It  is  the  un- 
known we  have  to  fear.  Every  human  defence  can  be 
destroyed  by  human  ingenuity.  That  is  why  I  say  that 
the  new  principle  will  only  serve  us  in  itself  for  just  the 
amount  of  time  which  it  takes  our  rivals  to  readjust  their 
focus,  and  mobilize  their  powers  of  offence.  The  day 
will  come  when  some  invention  will  be  brought  to  attack 
underwater  craft  successfully.  And  then — what  then  ? 
In  spite  of  all  our  territory,  our  wealth,  our  nominal 
power  we  shall  be  driven  to  yield  to  the  pangs  of  hunger. 


416  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

It  is  not  a  dream  I  am  showing  you.  It  is  a  reality.  It 
is  a  truism  which  no  logical  mind  can  deny." 

Sir  Andrew  refrained  from  comment  for  some  moments 
as  his  son  ceased  speaking.  But  at  last,  as  the  silence 
prolonged,  he  urged  him. 

"  And  what  is  the  answer  to  it  all  ?  "  he  enquired.  His 
eyes  were  serious,  and  his  words  came  crisply.  He  had 
caught  something  of  his  boy's  gravity  although  he  was 
not  sure  how  far  he  accepted  his  creed.  "  There  must  be 
an  answer.  Every  problem  of  State  possesses  its  solu- 
tion, if  we  can  only  find  it — in  time." 

Ruxton  nodded.  Then  he  rose  abruptly  from  his  chair 
and  flung  his  cigar-end  into  the  empty  fireplace  with  a 
forceful  gesture.  He  began  to  pace  the  room. 

"  That  is  the  crux  of  the  whole  situation,"  he  declared 
feverishly,  his  dark  eyes  burning  with  an  intense  light. 
"  In  time  !  In  time !  If  we  could  only  be  induced  to 
adopt  the  true  solution  '  in  time ' — before  we  are  forced 
to  adopt  it.  Oh,  yes,  there  is  a  solution — a  right  solu- 
tion. It  is  so  simple  that  one  wonders  it  has  not  long 
since  been  discussed  by  every  man  in  the  street.  The 
solution  stares  us  in  the  face  on  every  hand.  It  calls 
aloud  to  us  in  appeal,  and  we  turn  from  it.  Every 
country  that  can  ever  hope  to  last  out  the  days  of  man 
must  be  self-contained,  self-supporting.  In  times  of 
stress  it  must  be  capable  of  existence  upon  its  own 
natural  stores.  Look  at  America's  position  during  the 
war.  She  could  afford  to  hold  aloof,  and  continue  her 
reign  of  prosperity  while  she  snapped  her  fingers  at 
Armageddon.  Why  ?  Because  she  was  independent  of 
the  rest  of  the  world  both  economically  and  strategically. 
Let  the  whole  of  the  rest  of  the  world  blaze.  Let  the 


AFTER  TWELVE  MONTHS  417 

slaughter  go  on.  She  could  stand  alone  though  the  con- 
flagration raged  a  century.  No  combination  of  human 
forces  could  defeat  America  without  exterminating  her 
peoples.  Here  are  we,  with  territory,  blocks  of  territory 
scattered  throughout  the  world  so  vast  as  to  make  Amer- 
ica look  small  in  comparison.  They  are  not  tracts  of 
savage  country,  but  cultivated  and  highly  civilized  States, 
any  one  of  which  can  be  wholly  self-supporting.  They 
are  ours — peopled  with  our  people — governed  by  codes 
of  laws  similar  to  our  own — with  objects  and  principles 
like  to  our  own.  And  yet  we  sit  here  awaiting  ultimate 
destruction,  a  tiny  group  of  islands  upon  the  crests  of  the 
Atlantic  waters.  It  makes  one  think  of  the  foolish  bird, 
who  builds  her  nest  and  stocks  it  full  of  eggs,  and  sets  it 
upon  the  topmost  twigs  of  a  tree,  waiting  for  the  gather- 
ing of  the  storm  which  must  sweep  it  out  of  existence, 
while  the  whole  protection  of  the  tree's  full  strength  lies 
open  to  her.  The  position  is  so  absurd  as  to  set  one 
laughing  in  very  bitterness.  I  tell  you  the  day  will  come 
when  an  island  home  is  utterly  untenable  for  any  great 
nation.  I  am  not  even  sure  that  the  time  has  not  al- 
ready come.  If  I  had  my  way  our  empire  would  be 
ruled  from  the  heart  of  Canada,  whose  vast  tracts  of 
territory  are  bursting  with  an  unbroached  wealth  which 
no  country  in  the  world  can  ever  hope  to  match.  There, 
amidst  those  fertile  plains,  I  would  set  up  our  kingdom, 
and  gather  our  limitless  resources  about  us.  There,  in 
the  midst  of  that  new  world,  I  would  wield  me  the 
sceptre  of  the  greatest  Empire  of  all  time,  and  within 
its  ramparts  I  would  strive  unceasingly  for  the  spiritual 
and  mundane  welfare  of  our  people  and  all  mankind. 
No  nation  in  the  world  was  ever  more  fitted,  both  in 


4i 8  THE  MEN  WHO  WROUGHT 

temper  and  in  power,  for  the  task.  No  peoples  would 
more  willingly  lend  themselves  to  it.  All  our  history 
has  been  one  long  story  of  pacific  purpose,  and  only  has 
our  regrettable  geographical  setting  forced  upon  us  any 
other  course.  My  most  ardent  thought  and  desire  is  that 
some  day  we  may  voluntarily  remove  the  obstacles  be- 
setting us,  and  our  pacific  purpose  may  be  given  the  full 
development  it  seeks.  But  so  long  as  Britain  nests  upon 
the  waters  of  the  Atlantic,  so  long  shall  we  continue  to 
live  under  the  burden  of  war.  And  the  end  ? — Who  can 
prophesy  the — end  ?  " 


A     000  038  737     3 


